


Pretty Blue Eyes

by she_mammoth



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Bondage, Coming Out, F/M, M/M, Multi, Secret Relationship, young!Brendan, young!Ste
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-05-27 06:38:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 72,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6273712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_mammoth/pseuds/she_mammoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendan Brady moves to Hollyoaks after the failure of his marriage. Ste has just turned 18, trying to become a respectable adult and is concentrating on being a good father. After what is meant to be a one night stand he doesn't expect to fall for the Irishman, changing both of their lives</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story is also being posted on fan fiction.net

Mitzeee, the "girlfriend" has a way of talking me into things that I really do not want to do. As I stand naked, accessing myself in the bathroom mirror I cannot believe I'm letting her drag me out - to a student house party no less - when I should be working. So I'm running late on purpose, in protest. Fortunately, my pre-night out routine is proficiently fast. I know not to leave her alone for too long, looking like a mug that's been stood up. I'd never hear the end of it.

Not much of a protest.

So I get to it. Shower. Shave and then groom the moustache. Brush teeth. Get dressed, trading my usual sharp suit for jeans and a fitted black short sleeve t-shirt. Aftershave. I spend more time working gel into my hair than you could ever get me to admit. It's been less than 20 minutes, one more glance in the mirror and I'm ready to set off.

As I walk down the stairs that's when I see her, the thorn in my side, sat at my breakfast bar slurping a glass of white wine. I don't know how to explain our arrangement, because I honestly don't know how I let myself end up in yet another farce of a relationship. Nonetheless, this tiny bossy woman has managed to insert herself into my life and while I'd never tell her, she's crept into my heart over the summer. The relationship we portrayed to the world was completely contrived, one of her creation and on that I was basically blackmailed into, but now looking at her I realise she's the only person I've got in this village.

"You're here? I thought I was meeting you there?" I ask.

"What, and trust you to make your way there, completely unsupervised? I half expected to find this place empty, you over the road locked in your office."

She smiles handing me a glass of whiskey.

"When I got here to find you in the shower, I thought I'd be waiting all night. I know what your lot is like in front of a mirror with all your products, but you were surprisingly fast." She jokes, giving me a knowing smirk.

"You're not even dressed Mitz." I lazily protest, noticing her purple velour tracksuit.

"I'm in need of a...refined eye." I can tell she's choosing her words very carefully to give just enough cheek.

"I've got a couple of dresses and need your expertise." She explains, giving me a butter wouldn't melt smile.

Anyone else, and this shit would not fly. "Why make such an effort for a scuzzy Student house party? It's not like you're going to get papped. "

"Every situation is a chance to make an impression. I want to be remembered and talked about. Hence my three step plan." She puts an emphasis on each word, accompanied by spirit fingers.

"Go with the pink dress, the black one washes you out and doesn't go with your lipstick or shoes." I jest, putting on a camp voice. "Three step plan?" I ask, trying to ignore her state of undress.

I don't think I'll ever get used to the ease and comfort this woman has undressing in my presences.

"One, look drop dead gorgeous in this designer dress, you were kind enough to buy for me."

"W...what?" I take note to keep a better eye on my credit cards.

"Thanks babes." She continues swiftly "Two, turn up with a hunky Irishman on my arm. Three, do something that no one will ever forget, convenient thing about Uni students is they tweet and video vine and Instagram. I can see it now hastag Mitzeee. I'm ready!" She purrs, clicking her heels and twirling for me.

Sometimes, not being that way inclined I over look her beauty. Mitzeee is a 20-year-old aspiring model with thick wavy brown locks, big brown sparkling Bambi eyes and a body with curves that would drive most red-blooded men wild. At only 5 foot 3 her bubbly but commanding personality makes up for her lack in inches. She moved to the village just before myself, on the quest of archiving WAG status through her latest footballer conquest, Carl Costello. Who just happened to be her cousin's husband, merciless. But it's Anne that gets me, the girl behind the persona. She is actually quite intelligent under the glitz and glam, loyal and easy for me to talk to. Anne Minniver is a motivated young woman with dreams of a better life. Albeit, she seeks the privileged and pampered lifestyle of the rich and famous, but I admired her ruthless and driven ways.

"Devine." I smile sincerely for the first time.

"Dutch courage." She must have seen the unrest on my face because she refilling my glass.

"Mitzeee, why don't I take you out for an over priced meal and we can hit one of the bars in Leeds?" I try and persuade her, but she doesn't look convinced.

"Is the big bad, crazy Irishman scared of a few college students?" She says in a hushed tone, despite the fact that we're alone.

"I'm too old for this shit, Anne."

"Brendan Brady." She soothes, placing her hands on my uppers arms. "You're only 25, you need to get out more babes, since buying the club you've been all work, you need to learn to relax. Maybe get some twink tail?" Seeing the doubt in my eye she tries a different approach. "Anyway, seeing the beautiful faces behind the new club is a fantastic was to drum up business for Chez Chez and students are good for flexible, minimum wage workers."

"Faces...?"

Before I can question where exactly Mitzeee, the wannabe WAG fits into the running of my business she is dragging me out the door.

{~}

We make our way, Mitzeee blabbering on about an upcoming shoot. My participation isn't actually required in this conversation and so my mind drift to what it always does when I get lost in the dark recesses of my mind. I think over the events of the last few months. My wife, Eileen had caught me kissing her cousin, Macca. Which evidently, did not go down too well, leading to my relocation to Leeds and eventually putting down roots here in Hollyoaks. My deceit over my sexuality had meant I had to leave behind my life, the city I grew up in, everything and everyone I knew but most importantly my son, Declan. After months of working for Danny Houston, a Leeds based gangster type, along with my savings I was able to by a club in this little village, to support my family back home.

Big fish small pond type thing, but it's working for me so far.

I think back to Mitzeee's recommendation to pick up some 'twink tail' tonight. I guess she had noticed that I'd gone home alone every night for the last week or so. I've made the decision to stop sleeping around. I'm not sure what I want, obviously not a woman, but all these one-night stands leave me feel ... i don't know. Guy after guy had made the walk of shame from my flat, after being kicked out in the early hours of the morning, leaving me with no choice but to finally come to turns with my sexuality. I'm gay, I can admit that the to myself doesn't I'm ready to come out to the world.

"Brendan!" Mitzeee calls, interrupting my thoughts. "So I can use the club for my winter trends shoot?"

"No." I snort, who does she think I am?

"Fine. Whatever, we're here." She barks, storming into house.

I hadn't noticed our surrounds before, but I'm stood on the pavement in front of a house I recognise. I'd be here before when looking for a place to live. I realise now that this is not a student house, most last likely it's been broken into for the occasion. At this point I also notice a group of drunken teenager sat on the brick wall. They're local teens, I don't think are old enough to be students from the college. A wafer thin girl, necking a boy who would not look out of place in an indie band owing to his long unkempt hair. A blond that I know to be one of the McQueen's, downing white lightning. Finally, a scally sat a little further along the wall catches my eye, he's not interacting with the others and is lost in his own thoughts. The lad is so young but seems to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, I can't help but wonder what's going on behind those pretty blue eyes. I shake my head to dislodge the thoughts and walk into the house despite my reservations.

Half the village must be here, college students mostly, a few older people in their mid to late twenties and a handful of younger teenagers looking to get drunk, all celebrating the end of summer. I spot Mitzeee schmoozing a group of lads, it's better just to leave her to it so I set off in search of a drink.

After finding a bottle of lukewarm beer, I take Mitzeee's advice and relax a little, joining a conversation with Darren Osbourne, Rhys Ashworth and Gilly something or other, three local lads. After 15 excruciatingly long minuets I have deduction that Darren is a moron, Rhys is up himself and deludedly so, while Gilly as no original thought processes separate from Rhys'. I receive a text from Mitzeee, demanding my company in the kitchen so I quickly make my excuses and leave.

Heading to my unlikely salvation in the kitchen I see a bottle of Jack Daniels in my periphery on the stairs. It's not my whiskey of choice but its better than the beer I've been nursing, and if I'm going to suffer through this party I'll need something a little stronger. So I claim it as my own.

Already half way up the stairs I decided I might as well use the toilet. I hadn't anticipated the queue that lay before me. I guess cheap booze just passes right through the youth of today.

 

**To: Anne**

In the line to take a leak, I'll be with you shortly m'lady.

 

After a few minutes it dawns on me that the master bedroom has an en-suite, whiskey in hand I depart the ever growing but never moving line. Luckily the room is empty, I head to the bathroom, undo my jeans and let the fountain flow so to speak. Shaking myself off, I hear a shuffle from behind me.

It's the scally from outside, he'd been hiding in the bathtub.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Getting sloshed in a bath, alone, so move along."

Cheeky little fucker.

"Hmm, because it seems to me like you're hiding out it bathroom, perving on people."

He's standing now, right in my face. I'm taken back by his confidence, I pride myself on the fact that most people find me intimidating and would try to avoid a confrontation.

"Me the perve?" He chuckles "I saw you giving me the eye out side and then again in the front room when you were talking to Josh's brother."

Did he just accuse me of pursuing him? I hadn't, I'm a people watcher, I was just curious. He stood out from the other stereotypical partygoer, there was a something almost condemned about him, it intrigued me. That's all.

"Really?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

In a situation where my sexuality comes into question, I'd invade the individual's personal space, grab them by their shirt and use my most menacing, crazy Irishman routine to threaten them. My hand out stretched between us, I hesitate for a second, looking directly into those blue eyes of his, I could see it now. Sorrow.

"You now what." I say deciding to let him be. "Your. Not. Worth. It." I stab my index finger into his chest with every word, making sure not to let down the bravado that is Brendan Brady.

I turn on my heels and head towards the door.

"Look, mate, sorry. I'm just being a tosser, right. Not having a great night, so I took it out on you."

"It's fine." I say not turning around.

"Your J.D." He says while step at of the tub to hand me my whiskey from the window ledge where I'd placed it earlier.

I know I'm going to regret it as soon as I opened my mouth, but I can't help myself. "Want to share? I'll end up downing the lot and my liver won't thank me for it."

He smiles, his whole face lights up. "Yeah, sure." He grabs the bottle from my grasp and heads for the bedroom.

He's sat on the floor by the foot of the bed, knees bent with chin resting on one. His face contorts at his first swig of the bottle. I sit down beside him, resting my head back on the bed. We sit in silence passing the bottle between us, and it's nice to just sit and be. The tump-a-tump-a of the music below us.

After a while the effects of the alcohol creeps over every cell in my body, losing my restraint I look over at him. I take in every aspect of the boys appearance, soaking him up. He's wearing a blue polo shirt with the collar popped up and trackie bottoms. He's got a pair of old white trainers on, the laces are new or recently washed and I can tell that he's taken the time to clean off mud stains, but the soles are due to fall off any day now. He has light brown hair or dirty blond I guess, in a floppy haircut that I'm sure hasn't changed since he was ten. Pouty lips, high cheekbones and a nose that flicks up in a way that I can't help but find cute, in my current state. He's sporting a summer tan, I look down at my own pale arms, and in comparison I realise just how much time I've spent hiding indoors at work. I take in his scent, an odd mix of men's deodorant and what I assume is some sort of a citrus flavoured shower gel, I like it. A lot.

He looks over at me, and we make eye contact. I take in his blue eyes again, only now seeing the long, sweeping, eyelashes that frame them. We've been looking into each other's eyes for longer than anyone would deem normal. It's awkward.

"You said you were having a bad night?" I ask, laying my head back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling.

He mirrors my actions. "Me mate Amy invited me out, said we deserved a night off. But she's buggered off back to our flat with her fella. Leaving me with Michaela, who I can't stand. So I'm left hanging out in the bathtub at a party I didn't want to go to and I can't even go home because I don't want to listen to 'em going at it."

"The grave problems that plague the teenage existence." I mock.

"You know what? You know nowt about me and my problems." He shouts getting fired up.

"Enlighten me, why don't you."

"I have two kids to feed and clothe, rent and bills which need paying but with hardly any qualification and a criminal record people aren't exactly falling other themselves to give me a job." He rants. "And then there's Tony, he took me under his wing gave me a job, helped me with me cooking. The last few weeks he's been really cagey, I think he's building up to fire me and I don't even know why. I only work part time as it is, how will we cope if I lose me job?"

"Hmm." I reply with an incoherent grunt, feeling like an arrogant ass. "How old are your kids?"

"Leah is almost three and Lucas is five months old. I love them both so much, but what if I can't give them the lives they deserve? I stay up some nights worrying about bills and rent and money for nappies and formula. I don't now we're going to cope over the winter, the amount it costs to have the heating on."

So he does have the weight of the world on his shoulders. Kids and a home finance is a lot to handle at such a young age, but he isn't shying away from his responsibilities.

"What they deserve is a dad that is there for'em, that tries his best. Someone they know will be there everyday when they wake up in the morning. You're a good lad. I know how hard it is to be a young dad, but you'll make it through. It's not going to be easy, but it's worth it. One hundred percent. You know what, if you weren't worried, terrified even, then you'd have a problem. It's good to be cautious because you'll nerve be blind sighted."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not judging me." He says, rolling his head over in my direction. "...and believing in me, especially after finding me getting drunk in the bath. When I'm out with the kids, I see the looks strangers in the street give us and I hear them talk. I'm pre-judged. And the people that know me, know every wrong thing I've done won't let me forget the me mistakes. But not Ames, she always there for me."

"I'm in no position to judge." I say quietly, also rolling my head over to look at him. "Eight months ago I destroyed six years of marriage, a family, my family, packed a bag and I just left, because I couldn't face up to who I was, am. Haven't seen my kid since." I share more than I had intending.

I can tell that I must be very drunk, because I'm opening up to a teenager. We're staring at each, again. I wonder what his lips feel like?

"We, we should get back to the party." I mumble while getting to my feet.

"I should probably just go home, me. Sleep this off, wake up early in the morning and ask Tony about me job, don't wanna get blind sighted."

There it is again, that smile, it's infectious, I have a grin on my face to match. He stretches out his arm for a hand up, so I oblige. In my drunken haze I tug a little hard, stumbling to the ground with him on top of me. We both irrupt into laughter, amused by our drunken state. The laughing trails off and I can hear his heavy breathing and I can feel our hand still clasped together in between our bodies. He's looking down at me now, still unmoved. It isn't at all awkward, but the moment is pregnant with anticipation.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but what? Suddenly his lips are pressed against mine. To answer my earlier question, they're plump and soft but rough on the surface. I leT myself indulge, just for a second before remembering my determination to put an end to my summer of one-night stands, so pull away.

"Ummmmm." I stretch out the word, still unable to form a sentence. What is going on with me?

"I've got this wrong?" He askes.

Still nothing from me. I cover my forehead with my free hand, maybe I'm burning up. No? I close my eyes in an attempt to compose myself.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I thought you... that we... I should... please don't-" He sighs standing up, finally releasing my hand. "Sorry." He whispers while making his escape for the door.

Before I do what I'm about to, I tell myself this isn't going back on my decision. If I'm to go cold turkey until I sort out this gay thing I might as well end the summer on a high. Maybe it's the alcohol because his rambling is cute and endearing. Or, maybe I'm taking pity on him, he looks absolutely mortified, I can't just let him go thinking it was just him, right? So, I grab him by the arm, close the door and push him up against it. I rest my hands on the door, trapping him and then I lean in.


	2. Chapter Two

When we eventually stop laughing I am very aware of the body beneath mine and who it belongs to.

Brendan Brady. I'd seen him around the village, the type of guy you daren't look in the eye for too long. He has a permanent scowl across his face, his walk has purpose, a swagger to it, his presence is always felt and it makes you feel about two inches tall. I know he owns Chez Chez, lives in one of the flats by Amy's dad's old place, I had heard rumours that he was proper dodgy, drugs, stolen cigarettes, knock off boozes, that kind of thing. People were generally frightened of him, apparently he would snap in a flash and have you pinned against a wall. One time Amy saw him growl at the shop boy in Price Slice because he had commented on the contents of his shopping basket.

To summarise he was a complete and utter psycho and I'm on top of him. Every inch on my body pressed to every inch of his. It's sobering. My heart is racing, a droplet of sweat runs down my face, adrenaline through my veins, my hair standing on ends. My sweaty, clammy hand is still holding his, but he's just looking up at me totally unphased. I realise now that I'm staring back, or maybe I was staring first, gawking into the abyss of the intensely steel blue of his eyes. His lips part, the tip of his tongue grazes his top row of teeth, giving me goosebumps. A sensation washes over me, in this moment the only word I can find to explain it is confidence, but it's very likely stupidity.

I do it.

No hesitancy.

I reach down to press my lips against his.

He doesn't kiss me back, I feel his body tense and he edges his head to the side.

I'm sure now, it was stupidity.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"I've got this wrong?" I think out loud.

Fuck.

He closes his eyes, presumably deciding where he is going to bury my body once he's done with me.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry." I begin to beg for mercy.

"I thought you..." were checking me out earlier.

"That we..." connected?

"I should..." go.

"Please don't…" batter me!

I don't finish a single sentence, it all sounds so lame. What can I say to a man like Brendan, to stop him throwing me out of the window? There's only one thing for it, I jump up and run for the door, even if he chases me I can get lost in the crowd.

I turn the door handle, seconds away from my escape plan. His hand wraps around my arm, completely enclosing it, stopping me in my tracks. Highlighting how skinny and weak I am on contrast. He closes the door, pinning me to it, like a fly in a spider's web, there's no escaping my fate.

I squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation of his fist striking my face. Nothing happens, the room deadly still, the sound of both our harsh breathing filling my ears. Then I feel lips on mine along with prickles of a moustache. He places two gentle pecks on me, and by the third I respond, my lips slightly parted. He pulls away, just as I'm getting into it, our faces inches apart.

"You took me by surprise, kid." His voice low and rough.

"Okay." I nod, it's so quite that I barley hear it myself.

"Okay." He repeats,his fingers coming up to fiddle with buttons on my polo.

I chew my bottom lip in nervousness, but I'm sure I can see the faint traces of a smile on his face. He leans in for another kiss, it's faster now, carnal. I place my hands steadily around his neck pulling him deeper, wanting more. I open my mouth creating space for his tongue to meet mine, then he finally makes complete contact, presses his body against mine. He is firm and heavy, a quiver shocks through me and I can feel an erection starting to sprout.

I freeze, embarrassed, I know that he can feel it through my trackie bottoms. He inches away from me, his eyes travelling down to scrutinise my bulge.

"Teenagers." He smirks.

I suddenly feel very exposed.

He pulls me in by my waist, and then tugs at the rope that is holding the waistband of my bottoms in place, slowly unravelling the knot.

"This, this is going to be fun." He nods, and gives me a reassuring kiss having sensed my apprehension.

His lips are all over me now. Kissing and sucking and licking at my neck, grazing my jaw with his teeth, tugging at my ear lob. It's frantic, like he can't get enough of me. We can't get enough of each other. My fingertips run through his hair, gliding down to exploring his body over the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

Brendan pulls at the hem of my polo, slowly push it up, leaving a trail of kisses as he goes. He gets to my nipple, licks it, and I jolt back a little in surprise. He continues, sucking at it and stroking with with his tongue, using his hand to tweak the other. It's like nothing I've ever felt before and for the first time in my life I understand the appeal of foreplay. I'm topless now, my shirt discarded. The tips of his fingers lightly and slowly travelling down my chest, edging into my waistband. Brendan doesn't break eye contact as he slowly rubs at my cock through the material of my boxer shorts. I gasp at the sensation, rubbing myself against his hand to increase the force. Pre-come soaks through to his hand, I moan begging for more. He seems to have gotten the reaction he wants, taking his hand back. He pushes me onto the bed towering over me.

"Take of your trousers." He instructions.

He looks at me like he's going to devour me, like I'm something to be eaten. It makes my heart flutter.

I'm obedient.

"And the boxers."

He begins to undress himself. I watch in awe, my tongue literally hanging out. He is tall and lean, but not scrawny, he's solid muscle. He has broad masculine shoulders, well-defined arms and just a hint of his collarbone peeks through under his pale skin. His chest is covered in a thin layer of short dark hair, tapering to form a treasure trail vanishing into his boxer briefs.

God, he is down to just his pants and he fills them out.

He sees me looking.

"See something you like?" His Irish accent riddled with cockiness.

Maybe he fills them out too well? I hadn't though this far a head. I've never been with a man before, and I'm not sure where to go from here. What does he want to do to me, what does he expects me to do to him? He's stark bollock naked now, and the size of his dick while still soft doesn't ease my worries.

Like he can read my mind he says, "Kid, just lay back and relax."

Again, I'm obedient to his demands. My head hits the pillow.

Brendan gets on top of me, straddling my hips. He rubs his thumb across the tip of my cock and the down the underside. He spits in his palm, firmly taking hold of me and begins to pump. And it is amazing.

The way he's looking down at me, I feel like it's just him and me, the outside world fading to nothingness. The people on the other side the door, my job, bills, rent, even the dodgy shower that Amy keeps nagging at me to fix, no of it matters. All my troubles are gone.

I suck on upper lip and close my eyes to hold back a moan, conscious that we are in a house full of people. He leans over, running his tongue up my neck, bites down on my jaw and then tenderly nibbling at my bottom lip with teeth, kissing and licking at me teasingly.

He's surprisingly playful.

"What are you into?" He whispers seductively in my ear.

I don't have a fucking clue.

He doesn't wait for me to answer. "I take it you're a bottom. But what else? Blow jobs, rimming, fing-er-ing."

He isn't touching me anymore, his words trail off, and he sits up, furrowed brow. I can tell that he is reading the expression on my face.

"Wait, you not a-" He sighs, looking frustrated. "Have you ever been with anyone before?" He asks slowly.

"Of course." I protest. "I've got kids me!"

He frowns. "Men. Have you ever been with a man."

"Oh. No." I look away, embarrassed.

Something switches inside of him, like a cog turning. He's off the bed and pulling up his boxers in mere seconds.

"What are you doing?" I ask, confused.

He looks over me. I self-consciously cover my modesty with the corner of the duvet.

"Kid, you look terrified."

"I'm not!" I'm defensive. "Remember I kissed you first." I argue, feeling desperate. This part of me that I always kept hidden, even from myself, pushed to the back of my mind,I suddenly want to explore it. Need to, and if not now I don't know if I'll ever have the nerve to try again.

"Then you ran for the door."

"Only because I thought you where going to kill me."

He lets out heavy laugh/grunt combination and rolls his eyes, like it's something he hears regularly.

"It's not that I don't want to do this. I don't know what to expect." I begin, trying to communicate my thoughts. "The pain..."

The two words seem to say it all, his face softens.

"You're big, I mean that thing ain't even hard yet. So yeah, I guess I'm a little scared." I finally confess.

"I guess, we're all scared our first time." He sighs.

"But it don't mean that I don't wanna do this. That I ain't up for it."

I stand up, my prick rigid against my stomach. I let go of any shyness and hook a finger into the waistband of his briefs, tugging at it. I hope to hell I'm coming off as sexy.

"I want to do this." I crooned, looking him in the eye assertively. "I want to get laid, I need to have some fun for once."

He hums, taking in my words. His fingers do a little dance, tapping over his lips.

"And stop calling me kid, I'm 18, now."

I coax him out of the boxer briefs pulling him back onto the bed.

"Now?" He asks.

"Yeah it was my birthday last week."

"Well then happy birthday, kid."

I open my mouth to complain about the use of that word kid again, but he's not messing about now. I prop my self up on my elbows, watching as he moves down to my crotch, taking me into his mouth. My body unwinds, my head falls back as he takes all of me deep into his throat. It's warm and damp, and there's a perfect combination of suction and tongue action. He started to work my balls, lightly fondling them.

Overwhelmed by the pleasure I begin to rock my hips up into him. As his mouth continues to stimulate me, going faster in response to by soft grunts the tension builds. I realise I'm going to come soon. I attempt to hold it back, distracting my self by thinking of a new recipe to try out of work. It's no use, I've reached the point of inevitability, there's no going back. I cry his name pounding my palm on the mattress as the sticky white fluid begins to expel out of my shaft and down his gullet. The accumulated tension has transformed into a warm tingly feeling in my groin, it intensifies as I tremor uncontrollable beneath him. The feeling begins to spread out in ripples of sexual pleasure, pulsing throughout my body.

Brendan clambers up to face me, and pushes his tongue in my mouth. I've seen that on porn before, I didn't get it so it never did anything for me. Right now, with him I can't think of anything hotter than tasting myself on his mouth.

"Sorry."

"What for?" He asks looking confused.

"I couldn't hold it, I tried." I explain.

He still looks at me like I'm talking in tongues.

"I mean, should I 'ave waited till the main event, right?"

"Oh kid, once I'm done with you you'll be coming buckets all over again. You don't need to worry about that."

He gets up, walking over to his jean to fetch his wallet, where a condom and a sachet of lube are located. He bends my knees and then spreads them open to make space for him to kneel in between.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

I bit my bottom lip, nodding.

He begins to rub at his own cock, I inhale as I watch it grown. Fully erect it is bigger than I had imagined, and thick. There's a magnificent vein running on the underside, swelling as blood pumped through it, throbbing under the pressure of his hand.

He hands me the condom. "Put it on me."

Sitting on up, I tear it open and roll it over him, with more confidence than I should have at touching another guy's junk for the first time. Brendan follows as I lay down, bending my thighs back so my legs can rest on his shoulders and over his back.

"Flexible." He hums with a smile on his face. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle and take it slow. I won't go all the way in."

Throat tight I simply nod again, closing my eyes in anticipation.

"No, open you eyes. I want you here with me. This is something you'll want to fully experience, every second of it."

I open my eyes, to see him looking back at me and I get lost in his deep blue ocean. I feel safe and warm and I don't want to ever leave this room.

He buffs the contents of the sachet over his bagged penis, when I feel his thumb swiping over my hole I quake. He slowly pushes at my entrance, the head of his cock buried inside of me. I gasp as my sphincter muscles constrict around him, and then he slid further inside me. I am stretching, expanding around his width. It hurts, and honestly I can't see any pleasure coming from this. I distort my face.

He stops.

"Relax." He murmurs, while stroking my face.

"It is really painful." I wince.

"I know. You'll get used to me inside you and it'll get better. But you need to relax." He places a kiss on my forehead and tucks my hair behind my ear.

"Okay." I take in a deep breath, and then exhale. "Will it always be this painful?"

"No, not always. There will be a little pain, but that's part of it, you'll end up missing it, longing for it. Or so I've been told."

He place his hand into mine, interlocking our fingers and then slides out, then gradually re-submerges, further this time. He rhythmically continues at this unhurried pace, filling me a little more each time. I realise that I've been biting down on his shoulder as a way to release the pressure, but he doesn't seem to mind. He increases the force of his thrust without warning, eliciting a "yelp" from me.

"You okay?" He asks smiling down at me, he already knows the answer.

"Oh fuck." I'" whimpering. "Yeah, that was, it were nice."

"Nice? Just nice?" He chokes out exasperated.

"Breathtakingly nice." I Nod.

Brendan continues to fuck me gently, sliding in and out of my arse. With every leisurely trusts, he grazes my pleasure zone, making me groan and gasp in satisfaction. Brendan was right, this, he feels amazing, it's not so much painful anymore, but there is a lingering tenderness, which intensifies things.

I look up at him, his eyes have gone dark, pupils completely dilated. He's aroused, and it is so beautiful. I pull him down by his neck, going in for a kiss, biting at his lips. I become possessed. The kiss is passionate, Brendan's lips part, so I drive my tongue in exploring mouth, he moans. He lowers his face into my neck, burying himself into its contour. He shakes and continues to thrust as he finishes, exhaling one last glorious groan.

Just as I think we are done he places his hands tightly around my hips, bringing us closer together so that my dick is caught between our bodies. I'm drowning in ecstasy, toe-curling ecstasy. I shut my eyes and cover my face with my hands. I push into his trusts, my jumbled wails filling the room as he makes me come for the second time. Just like he had promised.

Brendan collapses on top of me, smearing my come between our torsos. We pant together, both our bodies are limp with fatigue. I take in his smell of soap, aftershave, sweat and sex, then kiss the bite mark I had left behind tasting his salty skin. As I start to run my fingers through is hair he pulls out of me, and makes his way to the bathroom while he unsheathes his cock. I watch him as he go, mesmerised by the planes of his back.

As I wait for his return, sprawled out on the bed drowsiness overtake me.

I'm startled when a something cold and wet lands on my chest.

"So?" He asked while hurriedly getting dressed.

"So, what?"

I follow suit, clean the come off my chest with the flannel he threw at me, and start to put my clothes back on.

"Was it fun?" He clarifies.

"Fun?"

"You said and I quote 'I want to get laid, I need to have some fun for once.' Did I provide you with some much needed fun?"

I smile. "Yeah we had fun." The statement turns into a question, as I look to him to see if he had definitely had fun with me.

He's nodding in agreement.

"More than fun, cos I an't ever done anything like that before." I feel my cheeks flush red with awkwardness.

"Good. I'm glad."

He's fully dressed now, while I'm still searching for my t-shirt. When I turn around again he's gone.

"I'm Ste by the way. Thank you for the mind blowing, eye opening sex. See you around maybe?" I say to myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: the morning after the night before and their paths cross again


	3. Chapter Three

The muscles throughout his body contract sporadically as he reaches a second climax, come splattering over his chest and stomach. I look down at his placid face, him looking back up at me, and in that moment I know he's never going to forget this. His first time with another man. I feel like we've made magic.

I fold down into him, our heart rates slowly recovering against one and other. I just lay there listening to the lub-dub of our beating hearts, completely immersing myself in to the tranquillity of it.

The sex was intense, to say the least. Not the rough, dirty, crazed fuck that I'm used to with guys that I've picked up, usually at the bar of a business travel hotel. It was slow, yet powerful, sensual and impassioned. I remember looking down at him after his first jolts, the sound he made, a little 'yelp'. In that instant, after the initial pain his mind opened up to the pleasure to be gained from another man inside of him, honestly I felt triumphant.

He kisses my shoulder and runs his fingers through my hair and its nice, calming.

Fuck he's trying to cuddle.

I snap out of my trance like state, pull out and walk to the bathroom not saying a word. I shut the door behind me, physically closing myself off from him. He's just given me his virginity, that's some fucking big shit. My body slumps against the door and I tap my head against it a few times annoyed at myself. He lives in the village, he works on the fucking high street, and he probably makes the bloody sandwich I eat at lunch.

I have a code of conduct when it comes to sex, never screw they gays of the villagers. It's very simple, do not shit where you eat. Another rule is strictly no cuddling or spooning, I should have pulled out straight away.

'I feel like we've made magic.'

What the fuck was I thinking?

I use one of the towels to clean myself off, splash water on my face and then look at myself in the mirror. I remain in the bubble of the bathroom for a few minutes, just assessing my reflection.

He's sleeping by the time I get back. Lightly snoring.

"Kid."

I don't even know his name, but it's better that way.

I throw the towel at him causing him to stir from his slumber. I turn to the pile of my clothes on the floor and quickly redress myself. He's looking up at me confused, like he has missed something and I can see the hurt in his eyes.

I'm not callous person, Cheryl always says I'm a good guy, a big softie deep down. This is his first time and his head must be all over the place. I know mine was. So I start a conversation, just to check in.

"So?" I ask, keeping it light.

"So, what?" He ask, cleaning the last of his come from his bare chest.

"Was it fun?"

"Fun?" He mimics, while pulling up his boxers.

"You said and I quote 'I want to get laid, I need to have some fun for once.' Did I provide you with some much needed fun?"

It suddenly occurs to me that this could be misconstrued as flirting. I need to rap this up and fast.

"Yeah we had fun."

We.

He looks at me for reassurance of his performance. I nod.

"More than fun, cos I an't ever done anything like that before."

Damn, post-coital soul bearing is a definite no. I tune out his voice not wanting to know. Instead, I check my phone as he talks.

He looks at me, waiting for me to speak.

"Good. I'm glad." I respond, not really knowing what to.

He turns looking for his t-shirt. It's slightly hidden under a chest of draws, but he doesn't see it yet.

From: 075******69

Three missed calls. Ignore.

One voicemail. Delete.

Fuck.

I've had enough. I turn and leave while he's distracted.

{~}

BANG BANG. BANG BANG.

I wake up to a pounding headache, a dry throat, and an incessant banging.

BANG BANG.

What the fuck?

I open one eye, closing it immediately, the slice of sun shining through the gap in the curtain is too bright. I turn over trying to get comfortable again.

BANG.

Ugh, I inwardly cry. Flinging my legs off the bed I brace my self for the dizziness I know I will feel once standing.

"I'm coming!" I shout as I make my way down the stairs.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph." I puff at Anne after finally opening my front door, just enough to see her. "Why are you assaulting my door so early in the morning?"

"Early?" She scoffs, brushing past me, uninvited. "Almost three months I've known you, never, not once have you been at that club later than 10am. It's just gone 12."

I ignore her rant, and head to the kitchen in need of a pint of water and more than the recommended dose of ibuprofen. Hovering over the kitchen sink, looking at the view from the window I can hear her footsteps getting closer behind me.

"What happened to you last night?"

Her text, I had completely forgotten she had been waiting, and then - that boy - I just left her there. I turn to look at her, hoping she can read the genuine apology on my face as I lie. "Nothing, I got feed up and left."

"So you made that bite yourself, did you?" She questions, pushing the strap of my vest to the side to fully exposes the evidence of last night's activities. "While you were off fucking some boy-"

"Anne, I do not have sex with boys, he was a man." I say tightly.

"Fucking whoever, I was busy trying to help your business."

buzz buzz. buzz buzz.

We both stop and look over to the coffee table at my vibrating phone.

From: 075******69

Reject call.

Feeling tired and weak I collapse into the sofa. I can tell she's bursting to ask, but knows better by now, instead she makes us both tea. After what can only have been a few minutes she shakes me awake.

"Wake up lazy bones."

Anne's smiling down at me, I sit up to make space. She hands me my mug still with that smile on he face, waiting for me to speak. I have nothing to say, I take a sip instead. Not enough sugar.

"Cannibal, was he then? Literally got yourself a man eater." She jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

I don't reply, as I absentmindedly watching the ripples of my drink.

"I thought you'd be more cheerful, or as close as cheerful as you get, after over coming your draught."

"Two weeks is hardly a draught."

"Hmm." She sighs.

Quietness fills the room as we both finish off our teas.

"I know I promised I wouldn't mention this again." She says cautiously.

"Then don't." I warn, trying to keep my voice calm and steady.

"But, whoever it is that's been trying to call you, for months now, is obviously desperate to talk to you, and I can see the effect it's having on you. Why don't you-"

"You came over to talk about the club?" I interrupt, not want to think about the person that's been calling me, unwaveringly for the past eight months. "Helping my business?"

"Yes." She sighs, deciding to drop it. "The club is gonna need more staff with the influx of college students, right?"

I grunt in agreement.

"So, I've sorted a recruitment day for this afternoon, I thought we'd have a mass interview and pick out the decent ones."

"Yeah, sure I'll be there."

"It's not till two, you've got time yet. Why don't you go back to bed and I'll see you at the club."

She places a kiss on my lips and heads for the door. Before she can leave I call her name.

"You can use the club for that shoot. Just let me know when, I'll have to close it for the afternoon and let staff know."

She doesn't thank me, knows I won't like the fuss. In its place I receive a wink.

{~}

With Anne gone I can't get my mind off the calls and the texts. I've never pick up, and I stopped reading the texts months ago. Before last night it had been a while, not a peep for over three weeks. I thought it had stopped, finally just given up so I deleted the number. There's never been a voicemail before. I can't help but wonder what was said, it must have been important. Maybe there's a way to retrieve it? No, I'll do more harm than good. But I need to sort this.

Text message

To: 075******69

Please, stop with the calls, I'm not going to pick up. I'm changing my number. Forget about me.

It may be harsh, but I made myself clear.

Anne is right, I probably should get some more rest before work. I lift myself off the sofa, and make my way back up to the bedroom. There's something I find soothing about the sound of my bare feet pitter-pattering against the wooden stairs. In the comfort of my bed, eyes heavy I welcome the dark gulf overtaking my consciousness.

{~}{~}{~}

I wake up with the sun slowly creeping over my room, I'm completely rested, my body feels light and relaxed. As I lazily stretch out, memories from last night come back to me, leaving a warm tickling feeling in my core.

I can still feel him inside of me, like he's still there. I wish he were, I wish we could have stayed like that forever. My hands travel slowly down to my morning wood, pretending that their his bigger and stronger hands I slowly caress and pump at my dick like he had done just hour before. The recollection of his wet kisses and warm breath all over my body drives me to the edge.

I can see his face so clearly, his eyes closed and mouth open. His lips curled to form the tinniest smile like he had been transported to the most beautiful place on earth and I realise now that I had taken him there. Me. My hip buckles and with one last stroke my hand is covered in my warm gooey spunk.

I can't stop smiling because I'm almost giddy with joy, I roll over and bury my face in the pillow. I did it, I finally had sex with a man. I honestly wouldn't believe it if I couldn't still smell him on me. After taking a moment to let all my emotions settle and sort through my thought I sit up letting out a puff of air. I look over at my digital clock, 1:24 I've been a sleep for almost 12 hours and my shift started 24 minutes ago.

Crap, Tony's going to kill me.

I jump out of bed in a panic, frozen for a few seconds not knowing what I should do first.

Time for a shower? No, but I definitely need one. I reek of stale sex and whiskey is seeping out of my pores. Not to mention my come soaked boxers from earlier are starting to cling to me .

I'm showered, dressed and out of the door within 13 minutes.

{~}

I bust through the restaurant doors out of breath and ready to keel over, I'm not used to running so fast. Half a mile in around 5 minutes, I have no idea if that some kind of Olympics record but it sure feels like it, I'm still gasping for air when I see him.

"Tony-" I stop for another massive intake of air.

"Ste, you're almost an hour late."

"I'm so sorry, I'm late. I er, must 'ave slept through my alarm."

"Huh, is that right? So you weren't at that party last night?"

"Well, yeah I went. But I … I…" I stutter, unable to explain myself. "Please Tony, I need this job. I have kids." I raise my voice, frantic.

"Ste that's enough, don't make a scene." He says in a hushed tone, as people start to look over. "Sorry about the disturbance. Please, go back to your meals." Tony addressed the room with a cheesy smile on his face.

He gives me a severe look before turning for the kitchen, I swear he almost looked apologetic. I follow him, knowing that I've lost my job.

"I'm sorry Ste, but I'm going to have to let you go."

"Tony, no! Please, I'm a good worker, I've never been late before and it won't happen again. I promise you, this will not happen again."

"Ste, I'm sorry but I'm not going to change my mind." Tony says, look sincerely remorseful.

"You're loving this, you've been weird with me for weeks. You couldn't wait for any little excuse to get rid of me!"

"Ste, it's not like that."

"I thought we were friends. You gave me a chance and what, now you're just going to take it away?" I'm screaming now, my temper getting away from me.

"Ste I'm sorry, I really am. But-" He stops, seemingly deciding weather or not to tell me something. "When you finished your apprenticeship I assumed that you'd be on the under 18 minimum wage. But then you turned 18 a week after apprenticeship program finished, your rate went up to £4.98 from £2.65."

"I can work for less, I don't mind. I just need to work, Tony."

"Business has been slow recently and I just can't afford to keep you on anymore. I'm sorry."

""You are unbelievable." I screech, tears building.

"Ste-"

I can feel the rage filtering across my body, I feel betrayed. I storm out, things will only get worse if I let it take over and lash out.

"Oi, ratboy! Hold on a minute."

I turn to see a tiny brunette sat at the counter, called Mittie or something like that. She's dressed in sky-high heels and a figure hugging pink dress.

"You what?"

"I couldn't help but overhear-"

"Look I ain't got time for this, I need to find another job."

"I might be able to help you with that. I work at the club, kind of. We're having a recruitment day, you should come over for an interview."

"An interview? Why are you helping me, you just heard all of that?"

"Someone helped me out with my work earlier, did me a favour I'm just spreading some good will."

"Okay, thanks. Amy would of been well made if I came home jobless."

"You're welcome."

She gives me an award-winning smile and I can't help but warm to her, despite her calling me ratboy.

"I'll just order lunch for my boyfriend then we can walk over. I'm Mitzeee by the way, with three e's."

"Ste."

A waitress comes over to take her order. "Can I get BLT, a milky coffee with three sugars and a low fat iced latte, please?"

{~}

In my state of panic over losing my job, and then the relief of getting an interview all with in 45 seconds the fact that my disappearing, one night stand owns the club had slipped my mind.

How am I going to face him?

"Hi everyone."

Mitzeee is standing on the bottom step addressing the group of potential employees. She's only small, and she isn't raising her voice but she manages to hold the attention of the room. I can tell all the guys want to be with her and all the girls want to be her. She's a stunner, but I don't feel that hot prickly feeling on the back of my neck that I experienced last week when I watched her hips sway as she walked through the village.

"Thank you all for coming. We're just waiting for the owner to arrive. If you all follow me upstairs we'll get started as soon as he gets here."

I hang back, watching the competition as they file up the stairs. I'm tempted just to leave. I know I can't, I'm not in position to be turning down perfectly good jobs. How would I face me kids? I'll do the interview, he won't heir me anyway, but at least I would have tried.

It's not long before he walks up the stairs, wearing an expensive looking grey suit with an eclectic blue shirt. The shirt is open at the collar, enough to display his chest hair and the blue pops against his pale skin. It's seems impossible but this outfit shows off his body even better that the tight t-shirt he had on last night.

The back of my neck is burning up.

He strides across the room in my direction, I panic, he's gonna wanna know what I'm playing at. But I don't think he's seen me, he slumps into the sofa next to Mitzeee. She slides the coffee and sandwich from Il Gnosh across the table in front of him. He's face slowly turns in to this beautifully, appreciative smile as he leans over to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Oh my God, they're together.

I edge back, hiding at the back of the crowd not letting him see me. I watch as he eats his meal, deep in conversation with his girlfriend. They're a really good-looking couple. He actually looks happy wit her, munching away at his sandwich. Every so often she steals a bite regardless of his obvious annoyance at having to shear. The way they interact and look at each other I can tell they're really close and completely comfortable with one and other. It's like all memories of last night have been forgotten, like it never even happened, he's completely blissful with this woman.

wheet weeeoo.

He whistles, the loud sound pealing the air around us, drawing a stop to the low rumble of conversations.

"Lets get started, shall we? I'm Brendan Brady, owner." He introduces himself to the waiting crowd.

There is instant silence, nobody can take their eyes off of him, listening to every word. He demands attention simply by being. His stance, mannerisms, accent, that moustache, everything about him is intriguing. Just like Mitzeee downstairs, he doesn't need to do a lot to draw the attention of the room. Forget the Costello's, this is the power couple of Hollyoaks.

"I only need two of ye's though." He announces, finally noticing the group of thirteen or fourteen people in front of him. "Maybe three, depending on how you bear up."

He glances over at Mitzeee, tilting his head to the side with a look of mischief about him.

"Oh, this is going to be fun." She chimes in, almost squealing. "Let the games begin."

The room is tense, as we all realise that this isn't going to be a normal interview.

We're split in to two, the first group lines up behind the bar while the rest of us wait for our turn. I'm still hiding.

"Pour the perfect pint." Brendan demands.

They look at him unmoved, then at each other for help.

"At this rate the customer would have died of thirst." He states calmly.

He pinches the bridge of his node, visibly irritated.

Somebody finally reaches under the bar to get a glass and begins to pull a pint. The others copy, some choosing to pour beer from bottles. Their glasses lined up, Brendan walks the length of the bar examining the contents.

"You and you." He points two girls, with glasses mostly fill with frothy foam. "When the punters ask for pints of beer-heads, I'll give you a call, till then why don't you lemons look for employment elsewhere."

"The rest of ye, what would you do if I asked for a White Russian?"

"Say I'm not that kind of girl." Jokes a curly haired posh boy.

The room erupts in laughter, Brendan looks over at Mitzeee, laughing louder and longer than any one else, gasping for air and clutching his side. When he finally stops his face is stern as he looks at the curly haired posh kid.

"Not fun. leave. White Russian, anyone? No? Okay. A White Russian is a cocktail made with vodka and a coffee liqueur."

There is still no response from the remaining three candidates.

"That's vodka plus either Kahlúa or Tia Maria."

They all jump into action, trying to figure out what type of glass to use and looking for the right bottles on the shelf.

"It gets loud in here, you need to be able to raises your voice, so tell me about yourselves as you prepare the drinks."

They all start to list off their personal details, relevant experience and qualifications.

"Louder, Louder, come on!" Brendan is suddenly in their faces shouting.

"He's just messing with them, this isn't right." I hear a girl whisper.

"He's not normal. I'm not sticking around to be humiliated." Adds an American lad before leaving.

I laugh lightly to myself, finding the whole thing quite comical.

"Music is playing, there's twenty people at the bar. You're multitasking, pour me another beer, you're multitasking. Jump on the spot, jump, jump!"

"That's enough! I refuse to continue!" Shouts a dishevelled looking rock chick, with raccoon eyes and pink and blue in her hair. "What are you playing at? You're just a pantomime villain, a born bully. You're a joke."

"You, blondie!" He sneers, pointing at her. "What's your name?"

"Ash."

"Ashleigh." He hisses out slowly.

He uses he's hands to drum on the bar top, building suspense.

Always the showman.

"Ashleigh you are … hired. You two fellas please, feel free to waste somebody else's time."

They don't move.

"Go." He orders. "Group two, take your place." He's smiling at us.

"I'm actually her for the DJ job." John Paul McQueen says, indicating to his bag of records.

"Do we really need a new DJ?" Brendan looks over at Mitzeee, who's been enjoying the show from the sofa.

"We need new blood, yes."

"What kind of stuff do you play?" He asks, finally acknowledging John Paul.

It's like I've been punched in the gut when his eyes linger over his body.

"Garage, drum and bass, electric and some dubstep."

He hums internally, rubbing the back of his neck. "Go set up."

He turns to look at the six of us at the bar. He finally sees me now, his face drops and he looks irritated.

"Mitz, I've had my fun, you can do this group." He says walking into the office.

He's gone again. Just like that.

{~}

Thankfully Mitzeee makes less of a show of the interview process. She has John Paul play a sample of his set while she has us prepare six drinks in four minutes, mentioning something about time management and keeping the line moving. I look around and I'm the only one that's managed to do it. As the others leave the club she congratulates me on my new job.

"After the day you've had I was hoping you'd get it."

"Thanks." I say with a strained smile.

I glad that I won't have to go home and tell Amy how I've managed to lose my job. But, my stomach is churning because I've managed to betray this woman that's been so kind to me, all before I'd even met her. It doesn't help that Brendan obviously doesn't want me here, he can't stand to be in the same room as me for long periods of time.

"John Paul was it? You were great. Brendan's is going to have to look through the rota to find nights to have you play. I'll get him to give you a call but hopefully you can start early next week."

Great, it's going to be awkward enough working with both Mitzeee and Brendan but I'm going have John Paul's smug face across the room.

"You two, there's some paper work in the office for you to fill out and then we can get your hours sorted and run through training."

Ash follows her into Brendan's office, I lag behind for a few seconds anxious about what his reaction will be that I'm now under his employment. With no other choice I finally walk in, holding my breath. He's sat at his desk and if he has any opinion at all about my presence, either way his face doesn't convey it.

I sit on the sofa by Ash trying to act normal, and trying even hard not to stare at him. Mitzeee hands us both contracts and employee information forms, which I know will take me ages to fill out, on account of my dyslexia. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Mitzeee sitting on the table in front of Brendan. I start filling out my personal information, read through the contract, ignoring the couple. At least there's one good thing about working here, pay is £6.85 way more than tight ass Tony. Finally finished, I hand my paperwork over to Mitzeee as Ash had done several minutes before. She gives it to Brendan so he can sign the contract.

"Steven." Brendan says looking through it. "Welcome to the team."

He looks straight at me for the first time, his expression still unreadable. I on the other hand, am visible flustered, the way my name sound with his Irish accent and rough voice makes me hot under the collar.

"Ste." Mitzeee corrects him. She looks over at me and misreads my expression. "No need to me nervous, Bren was just messing around out there he's like a big teddy bear deep, deep down when you get to know him. If you're lucky enough to get to know him."

I smile, it feels unconvincing but she seems to buy it, utterly oblivious.

"Ash you're a student right? So you're just looking for part-time work?"

"Yep, that's right. I was hoping to get some evening shifts after lectures."

Brendan looks over the staff rota "We need an extra pair of hand on the busier nights. Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, from 6pm to 1:30am. Club closes at 1am, then 30 minuets to tidy up a bit."

"Yep, that's absolutely perfect."

"And you Steven I believe will be working fulltime?" He turns to me.

"Right."

"Your shifts will be on Tuesday and Sunday, from 1pm an hour before the club opens till 7pm. Then Wednesday, Friday, Saturday you work from 1pm up until 1:30am, finishing with Ashleigh."

"A twelve and a half hour shift! That's the work of like one and a half people, slave driver much?" Mitzeee interjects.

"It won't kill him, and you yourself said he seemed hardworking, just minutes ago."

"No it's fine, really." I say, grateful for the hours.

"Then it's sorted." Brendan concurs, ending the discussion.

"Okay, all that's left is for you to train them." She instructs him.

"Me, where's Rhys?"

"I forgot to say, he called in sick. Jacqui couldn't cover and I couldn't get hold of anyone else."

"Sick or hungover? I don't know why I keep that loser on. Wait, who's working the bar now then?"

"No one. But Ste's day has been freed up so maybe he'll be kind enough to start straight away?"

They both look at me, and I nod because I can't really afford to lose a days pay.

"Okay, but I'm cutting Rhys' pay. He's a liability. Mitz, can you please do the training?" Brendan asks in his sweetest, I can play you like a fiddle voice.

Mitzeee doesn't get sucked in, reading him straight away. "Are you asking me to get involved in club business? You've changed your tune, remember I don't actually work here? Anyway I'm off to a spa in Chester with Heidi and then out for the night, so don't wait up."

She blows him a kiss and leaves.

"Right, well the bars been unattended for almost 20 minutes, lets get to it shall we."

We both follow him to the bar where he shows us how to use the till, card machine, the dishwasher under the bar, how to measure out shots and pull a pint.

"Well, I think that's it. There is a book of cocktail menus over there if you need, and here's the price list if anyone asks. Clean rags are kept in this drawer, whenever you have a free minute wipe down the bar and tables and collect glasses. Got it?"

"Yes." Ash and I answer simultaneously.

"Ashleigh can you stay and watch the bar for a few minutes while I take Steven down to the cellar? Then you can go."

"Yep, that's fine."

I follow him down to the cellar, where he shows me where the crates and boxes are kept, so I can restock the bar. It feels awkward to be alone with him, only saying 'yeah' and 'okay' when needed as he walks me through how to change a barrel.

"You try, that Foster's barrel is empty."

I keep my focus on what I am doing, trying to remember the steps he had shown me. Turn off the gas and unhook the line from the barrel. I stand back and let the left over gas rush out, looking everywhere but at him.

"I take it the talk with your boss at Il Gnosh didn't go so well then?" He asks from behind me.

I turn around to look at him. "I was an hour late for my shift. I must of slept through the alarm, I were worn out from last night-"

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself, I look at him completely mortified but he smiles a little, and it's gone just as fast as it had appeared. I relax a little, he's obviously not going to make a big deal about last night.

"So, you have a girlfriend? Is that why you left so abruptly, she was at home waiting up for you?" I ask curiously.

I connect a new barrel so that I don't have to look at him while he answers.

"No, I left because we were done. Anne, Mitzeee, She's not my girlfriend, not really. A while back she saw a guy leaving my place, and then said I needed a beard. The girl's been like a stubborn stain ever since, I just can't get rid."

"I actually think the 'tash suites you."

"Thanks. But no, a beard, it's a fake girlfriend to cover up the fact that I'm…" He exhales, letting the word linger silently.

I fill up the gas chamber float thing, I've forgotten the technical name for it already and then turn the gas back on.

"Gay?" I feel in the blank.

"Yeah that, I guess."

He stretched out his arms and claps his hands together then hits his palm with his fist a couple of time, clearly uncomfortable with the word. I find it weird, last night he was the definition of confidence he knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted and took it.

"What next?" I inquire to break the silence.

"The bar needs restocking with bottles of vodka, cider, Corona, Smirnoff Ice, Bacardi Breezer, juice and mixers. It's basically bare from last night."

"Okay, sure."

"I'll take up a few as well. From the way you struggled with that barrel I can tell your arms won't survive." He teases.

"You calling me scrawny? That barrel's twice my size!"

"Exactly my point."

He picks up a couple of crates, I try to do the same but can only manage one. I can hear him laughing to himself as he walks up the stairs. By the time I've carried the last crates up stairs Ash has gone, and Brendan is severing one of the few people in the place.

"Sundays are fairly quiet." He tells me. "College students are trying to get though assignments last minute, people like to spend the day with their family's, relaxing at home before a new week starts. That's why we close at 7pm."

"So why bother opening up?"

"Because of them." He nods over to a middle age man drinking a beer. "I get a hand full of alkys that sit quietly in the corner ordering drink after drink. It will just be the two of us, I use Sundays to fix anything that needs doing, sort out the payroll, I find it weirdly relaxing. You'll clean the place from top to bottom, put out the rubbish and recycling for the bin men, clean out the coffee machine, take inventory and stock up the salt for tequila."

I'm nervous about the prospect of spending the next few hours a lone with Brendan. I busy myself with emptying the crates and boxes of their bottles, while Brendan sits at the bar with his paper work occasionally serving one a the customers. Once the bar is fully stocked and the empty crates are back in the cellar I get on with my Sunday jobs. Times flies by, Brendan seems to be completely unawares of my presence as I move around the club, from task to task. There's only two hours till closing, and all I've got to do is take inventory, but I have no idea how. I'm going to have to talk to him.

"Brendan?"

He looks up at me from the stool leg he is securing, he looks surprised to see me.

"Steven, you've been quiet, almost forgot you were here. What can I do for ye?"

"I've done everything you said to do apart from them inventory. I don't know where to start?"

He finishes screwing in a bolt, turn the stool over and shaking it slightly to make sure it was sturdy. I notice that his shirtsleeve clings to the lines of his muscles.

"Follow me."

He walks into his office and shows me how to print out a stock list and sales list. He explains how I can uses the sales list to subtract from the current stock list to find out what should be left in the bar and cellar now. I can check to see if there's anything missing, if so I should tell him straight away and see what we're low on. He shows me how to access his online accounts at the brewery and wholesale so I can save orders, which he would later confirm and pay for. I also have to reorder things like, loo roll, lemons and limes, straws and tooth picks but those amounts stay the same. It is a lot of information, and a surprising amount of maths, I am totally out of my depth.

"It's a lot to get your head around." He says looking at me. "I walk you through it."

"Thanks." I say uncertainly.

Brendan is really patient with me, making sure I fully understand before we move on, even if it means he has to constantly repeat himself. We talk as we work, about nothing in particular but it's nice. I find that he's kind of funny in a dry sarcastic way and he just listens as I babble ion, as I tend to do. As he locks up the late summer sun is beginning to set, I'm still laughing at how long it took us to get the last of the alkys to move on. I had a nice first day, it might not be cooking but I like the work, the pay is amazing and I like Brendan. I feel silly that I was so worried.

"When can I see you again?" I ask once the door is locked.

"You work for me now Steven, you'll be seeing me pretty much everyday."

"No, that's not what I mean."

"I'm not looking for a boyfriend."

"Good, because I'm not looking for dinner and a movie. Just, I don't know?"

I take a moment to look at the sunset, not totally sure what I want apart from to spend more time with him.

"Last night, I can't stop thinking about it. The way you kissed me, how you were with me, it was special."

"I'm going to stop you there. Last night was just a lay, you said so yourself remember? You come, I come we go our separate ways. Just a bit of fun. You work here now and that's fine, because you seem to be hard working and actually competent. Please, lets not make this into a thing okay?"

"Um, yeah, sure."

"What I need from you is to come to work, clean up from night before, restock the bar, serve drinks and maybe change a barrel or two. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"Good, I'll see you on Tuesday then. And Steven do not be late, if there's one thing I hate its tardiness."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Ste fully embraces his sexuality


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ste goes for what he wants.

Chapter Four

I'm left standing outside the club as Brendan climbs the stair leading to his flat. I've spent the last few hours alone with him, building up this fantasy in my mind. My hands all over his body, him inside of me while kissing and licking every inch of skin he could manage. I didn't exactly get the reaction I had expected, that's for sure. I honestly thought he'd want me again too, for me last night was wonderful, I let myself believe something could come from it.

Rejection is a rubbish feeling, especially after something so momentous. Well, momentous for me anyway. I knew it was just a one-night stand, but he made sure it was special for me, that I was okay and tonight we had a laugh, eventually. Why not have a repeat performance or make it a regular thing even? But he's had me now, and is obviously already on the look out for the next lay, for something better.

I realise now that he's obviously very experienced while I had no idea what I was doing, I'm 10-a-penny, nothing to write home about.

It's early yet, the kids are still in Manchester with Amy's dad, I could go home open a few cans and get absolutely shit faced. I don't have to be in work tomorrow, could do with burying my misery and anger before I have to see his face again.

Or...

I could get the bus into Chester, 'ave a look at one of the gay bars. I've had sex now, the thing I was so worried about and it was incomparable to anything else, why not see what else is out there? Last night I crossed a line, now that I'm finally over it I want to see else is out there.

{~}

A short bus ride later, I'm in this club, topless, hunky guys everywhere. I order a beer and take a seat in the corner, the perfect view for people watching. They're all kind of slutty, not in a bad way or anything, just they have zero inhibitions. It's a room full of men looking to have some fun, dance, drink, and maybe get blown at the end of night, here no one judges because no one gives a fuck.

There's this guy that's been watching me, I can feel him watching, whereas I'm looking anywhere but at him, pretending like I've not seen him. We finally make eye contact, he's giving me this cheeky grin and I can't help but smile back. He's walking over now and I finally take in his full appearance. He can't be much older than me, 21 maybe, he's on the short side, short brown hair and brooding green eyes. His muscular build is shown off by the tight sleeveless tank his got on, obviously spends a lot of time at the gym.

"See something you like?" He ask when he gets to the table.

"Is that some type of gay pick up line." I'm thinking out loud as memories from last night sneaking up on me.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just, someone said the exact same thing to me last night."

"Last night?" He's eyebrows raise. "You like to have a good time then? I've not seen you here before."

"No, it's me first time."

"First time?"

"No not my first time, I mean yeah I'm new to all of this, but what I meant was it's my first time here, at this bar. Sorry, I'm jabbering on I tend to do that a lot."

"It's fine, sweetheart. I'm Syon by the way, and you would be?"

"Ste-"

After spending the day with Brendan I almost says Steven.

"Ste, would you like another drink?"

"Sure, that would be great."

I'm not too sure about the beefcake look, then again I never expect to have such a strong craving for the feel of a moustache grazing all over my body. I don't like being called sweetheart either, I'm not a girl, guys don't call each guy's sweetheart! Or maybe, here they do? I don't know. But at least he cared enough to ask my name.

When he gets back we talk idly over drinks, about nothing of significance, work, football, xbox games, the benefits protein shakes, small talk really. Both our bottles are empty, but before I can offer to get the next round in he's grabbing my wrist.

"I want you." He wisphers, getting close up, lips against my ears for just a second.

Weaving through the dancing crowd I'm very self-conscious, I've got on snug blue jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. I want to impress, but I'm not all that sure if I look any good cos I'm that nervous. But I carry on regardless, clutching his hand as he leads me to the toilets.

{~}

It's packed with people, but Syon manages to finds an empty cubical and pulls me in. He's resting against the door, undoes his button and pulls down his fly. He looks down at his half hard dick and so I drop down to my knees because I can tell it's what he wants, is expecting. I'm unsure of myself, but I do with my tongue what girls have done to me in the past, licking and pumping simultaneously his penis grows and throbs in my palm.

He pulls me away slightly and tilts my chin to make eye contact. Fingers running through my hair he says, "I want to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, properly all the way down your throat."

I'm hesitant, but I nod anyway, taking him into my mouth just because it feels nice to have some one want me again. Syon is rough with me now, holding onto the back of my head pushing himself farther into my mouth, I gag and I cough, his cock isn't that big, if anything it's on the smaller side but I still feel like I'm chocking, suffocating on it. He doesn't seem to notice, or maybe he has chosen to ignore my discomfort, either way the contrast to the gentleness with which Brendan showed me is startling.

Groans of appreciation escape from Syon, he shudders and bucks, still holding me in place when my mouth fills with his come. It's salty and gooey and not at all pleasant, so I get up and spit it into the loo. I face him, leaning in for a kiss but he pulls away and shakes his head.

"Nah, I don't do kissing."

"You wha-"

He interrupts, "It's your turn."

I'm pushed back until I collide with the wall behind me. One hand planted by my head, the other unbuttons my jeans and slips into my boxers. His fingers wrap around the base of my cock, twisting his wrist fast, pumping up and down.

Pre-come oozing from my cock I choke out, "Fuck, yeah just like that."

I look at him but he's head is turned away from me, eyes boring into the turquoise, speckled cubical wall. This feels me with neither joy nor desire. But I have to give it to the guy he knows what he's doing, my breath becomes laboured, short and sharp. His thumb runs circles over my slit, fuzzing my head, I rock into his fist as he repeats the pumping action. My legs tremble, turning to jelly, warm come trickling out of me.

He cleans off his hand on loo roll, I zip up, he flushes the toilet, I fasten my button, Syon turns and smiles and I return it, still coming down.

"Thanks." With that he exits our cubical.

Thanks?

Really?

That's it?

Like I'd just made him a cup of tea.

I feel grimy, cheap, and physically ill.

{~}

Two days later I start my first proper day working at the club, I've decided to put my bad sexual experiences behind me and to concentrate on providing for my family.

However, Brendan doesn't exactly make it easy. I can't figure him out. Brendan Brady's not nicest guy, he has very little time for basic pleasantries or common human courtesies, but in comparison to how he is with Rhys and some other bar staff he treats me pretty well. I would even go as far as saying he doesn't hate my company. We talk, well he lets me talk mostly and he has said he respects me for stepping up as a father and putting my criminal past behind me.

But it's more than that. Sometimes when I talking about the most mundane issues around the club I notice he's staring into my eyes, almost like he's searching for something. And I've caught his gaze drifts down to my lips and when the club is busy he watches over from the door of his office but I'm pretty sure he's mostly just watching me work.

Like I said, he's not making it easy, and it's becoming harder and harder to ignore the thoughts and the vivid daydreams of him and me, him with me, him in me. It's got to the point where merely being around him and watching him isn't good enough, I can't pretend like I don't want him. But I can't make a move, not again, he's my boss it would be highly inappropriate.

So I give up, push the thoughts to the back of my mind, him boss, me employee, the line has been drawn. I works for a while, I don't think of him as anything other than the guy who pays my wage, until one day he accidently touches my hand when taking a crate off me. It felt nice, nice doesn't do it justice, it felt like electricity coursing through my body. We make eye contact for a split second, and I know he felt it too.

From then on I watch him, I'm sure he hasn't hooked up with anyone since me. Well, he hasn't taken anyone home from the club anyway, and he never leaves the place so I'm not sure when he'd have the time. I conduct a plan, to make him want me, he had before, I hadn't imagined the way he looked at me that first night or the way he has been with me the last week and a half at work. There most be a part of him that still wants me.

{~} {~} {~} {~} {~} {~}

Steven's been working at he club for a month now. He's a hard little worker, always willing to cover shifts or stay late. We spend a lot of time together, we have this kind of symbiotic relationship, he talks all day and I just listen mostly. He tells me about his kids, plans for the future, worries and I give him advice, offering little nuggets of wisdom, I guess you could say we get on.

Two weeks into the job, he initiated what I can only describe a very tempting, bashful but relentless sexual harassment. At first he planted subliminal thoughts. Standing a little too close, eyes lingering just that second longer than need, when we were alone he'd graze over my hand, arm or back and then look me straight in the eye like nothing had happened. It was all so indirect and mild that I wasn't entirely sure I wasn't imagining the signs, perhaps just reading too much into it.

Five days ago he came in for his shift and it was like over night he had decided he just had to have me. He was less subtle after that. He started changing into his Chez Chez uniform in my office, talking to me in between t-shirts, his bare chest on display for longer than necessary. Sunday just gone, said he 'needed' help with the order form and as I typed he rubbed my thigh, I turn to look at him but he just smiles and didn't move his hand until I had finished.

We're playing a game of cat and mouse, and the longer the game goes on the bolder he becomes and more boundaries he pushes. It is all highly inappropriate yet I don't hate it. He looks at me like I'm his plaything, just waiting for me to succumb to his advances. But that's not how things work with me, it has to be on my terms.

It's been four weeks and counting, and the only action I've had to get me off has been from my own hand and I'm done with it, this no sex nonsense. I feel like I've achieved something, especially with Steven just laying it out for me at work. It's decided, the lad will be my reward. I just have to find a way to turn the tables, take control, and show him whose boss here.

{~}

It's quarter to one and Steven will be in for his shift soon, I'm sat in my office waiting for his daily 'strip tease'.

"Hi Bren." He beams at me taking off his t-shirt.

"Steven." I greet, standing up and search through a filing cabinet, not even looking at him. "A few of the barrels are running low, and the bogs need cleaning, the courtyard could do with a sweep and there's a delivery in 20 minutes, bring it." I turn around and he looks confused, I'm not playing along and it's thrown him. "Before opening would nice." With that I leave him alone and topless.

Over the next hour I don't chat with him as he carries out his tasks, like I've done in the weeks gone. Instead I invite John Paul to stay for a beer after he picks up his paycheck. I've noticed an animosity between the two, they don't talk unless to make snide remarks and on the nights John Paul plays Steven looks put out when he signals for a drink to be brought over to the DJ table. I can use this to my advantage. We sit talking about themed nights that he's wanted to run by me for weeks, I'm genuinely impressed.

Every time Steven walks by his lip juts out, sulking.

"Steven, bring over another couple of beers."

He puts the bottles on the table, deep in conversation neither John Paul or myself acknowledges him.

He's behind the bar now, nosily stocking the shelves. He's throwing a tantrum, trying to get my attention. I can tell I'm already driving him mad, not bad for 50 minutes.

"If you break any of 'em, it'll be coming out of ye wages."

I'm deliberately being cold and distant with him, and this carries on through out his shift. I get him to do all the heavy lift, while I leave Rhys talking to punters - although I take note of his slacking. I don't make a witty remark to his sexual innuendos, or praise him for working hard and I get up and go when I anticipate he's going to touch my arm.

I watch him as he absentmindedly wipes down the bar from the doorway of my office, I can tell he's confused and maybe even a little annoyed that I'm suddenly unresponsive. He must sense my watchful eye and looks up to give me a wary smile. The club is quiet, Rhys can manage alone until Jacqui gets in. This is it, my moment, I walk over ready to make my move.

"Steven can you go down to the cellar and tidy the place up. Nice and neat."

"But, I've been slugging around crates and walking up and down them stairs all day."

"I'm not sure I see you point."

"I'm worn out, Bren."

I like the way he's taken to shortening my name, but it won't distract me from the task at hand.

"Good thing I pay you to work here then. This is your job Steven, I'm the boss, I delegate and you follow my instructions."

He stares for a moment, trying to suss whether or not I'm being serious. My expression is unwavering, stern. Outraged, he walks down to the cellar, I wait a couple of minutes before following. As I walk in he has his back turned, staking boxes. I turn the key, locking the door behind me, the sound of the clogs rotating gains his attention.

He looks uncertain, alarmed even.

"The last few weeks, what have you been playing at?"

He's speechless, I get closer, the crate in his hand acting as barrier between us.

"Cat got your tongue, Steve?" I smirk at this, knowing that I've firmly asserted my place as the predatory 'cat', leaving him as my prey.

It's my turn to play.

"I find this sudden bout of shyness and hesitation disconcerting, you been more than forward with me the last few days."

I take the crate out of his hand and put it to the side to close the gap between us. My eyes never leave him, just watching, gathering and assaying every single micro-expression.

He's unsure of himself, deciding what to do, what to say and obviously regretting the actions that lead to this point. He's also unsure of what it is I'll do.

"You though you could mess with me?"

"I 'aven't!" He's protesting now.

"No? So what exactly were you trying to achieve? What was all that about?"

He's lips part, and then seal close, over and over like a gold fish.

I chuckle, amused by the dumbfounded look on his face. He's physically shaking, clearly terrified of what I'll do now that I have him cornered. So I kiss him, just gentle pecks like the first time against the door. He kisses me back tentatively, I can tell that he's still cautious, his eyes wide open.

I pull away smiling seductively, making my intentions clear.

"This not what you wanted from me?"

"Yeah, just you play your cards close to your chest, I couldn't figure out if you wanted it too?"

"I'm no longer opposed to the idea –"

Steven cuts me off, bringing his lips to mine. This time all the reservations he had have been eradicated, he's lips travel to my ear, playfully tugging, while his hands go straight for my belt. He's different from our first night together, still filled deep with lust but he's more certain within himself, and more open to exploring my body. In contrast my hands are suspended up in the air, his confidence is putting me off-balance.

I finally find a use for my hands, I seize his shoulders pushing us apart. I close my eyes, my neck spasms as I bring my heart rate back down.

"What?"

When I look at him he's confused, hurt in his eyes.

"Steven, look before we jump into this, I need for us to be absolutely clear on what this means, or doesn't mean. You understand?"

"Yeah I understand. You wanna fuck me, you like fucking me, I like it too, and that's all this means. We had a good time, right? So now that we're working together it makes sense to keep at it. For convenience, with you being such a busy man and all. In the office, here in the cellar, on the couches up stairs, you can even have me on the bar if you want?"

He gives me this alluring skewed grin, which sends a shiver down my spine. What is it

with this kid?

We're on the same wavelength, this is just a little bit of fun, and he's here all the time I may as well take advantage of that. I go for his lips, like an animal on heat, vicious. Backing him up against the wall, I cup his buttocks and tug his leg in between mine so we can both grind our groins against the other's thigh. We continue to grinding uncontrollably, the kiss is full on, passionate, my tongue is dominant, traveling into his mouth. He pulls away, his sweet moan echoes throughout the cellar.

He's so beautiful that I can't help but taste him, licking and sucking at the curve of his neck. The heavy petting continues, but I want more, I undo his zipper ready to get on my knees but he stops me and spins to switches our positions.

Steven has me against the wall, the look in his eyes alone turns me on. He pulls at my shirt, untucking it, after he's undone all my buttons and he starts kissing me again, slow and tentatively while his hands explore my body. Fingers skim through my chest hair and nails scratch at my back. I shuddered slightly when I feel him cup me, his palm stroking up and down. He unbuckles my belt, fiddles with my button to relinquish me from my boxers, pushing them down my hip.

He slides down my body onto his knees. Holding my cock in his warm palm, he seemed to be looking me over, admiring my dick. He puts both hands around me, stoking slow but firm to elicit a growl from deep in my throat. He beams, obviously proud of the reaction he's got out of me. His tongue snakes out to finally taste me. The head of my cock enters his mouth, and I can't help but watch as inch by inch he takes me down his throat. Watching as he devours me is almost euphoric. Soon he's nose is buried in my pubic hairs, I close me my eyes, head heavy against the wall and just enjoy.

My fingers rack through his hair lightly pushing, he's taken me in further than I though he could. I'm looking down at him, watching him work, like he can sense it our eyes meet, I ask him if he's okay, his hand runs up and down my leg as an answer. His hand creeps round to squeeze my bum and then he us massaging my balls.

"Fuck, Steven."

"Oh fuck!"

"I'm going to come."

"Aaaahh!"

My words are mixed with screaming groans, pounding my fist at the wall.

The lad is sending me to the edge, I'm more vocal than I can ever remember being in my life, I've lost control of my body. I involuntarily bucked into him before emptying myself into his mouth.

After, he just lays his forehead against my stomach, his fingers caressing my hips. I pull him up, our lips lock, tongues connect, his rolling around mine. We're groaning into each other's mouths, like we can't get enough, only separating to displace clothing.

He pulls away, short of breath all hot and flustered, smirk on his face.

"How are you already hard again?" Steven asks.

"Stamina, you better get used to it."

Before I know it we're at it again, doggie-style on the cellar floor.

{~}

When we'r dressed, ready to head back up to the bar like nothing has happened. I can't help but to draw him in close to steal one last kiss, when we part Steven lets out a low giggle, slowly erupting into full on laughter.

"What?" I ask, giving him a questioning look.

"Remember this is just convenient sex, so don't fall for me."

This time it's him that leaves me.

Huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Brendan thinks he has to be mean to be nice


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full on secret relationship

I swallow.

It doesn't taste bad, I read somewhere that come taste different depending on what the person eats. Brendan guzzles a ton of whiskey, sugary teas, meat and jam sandwiches. Syon, I don't know? He went on about protein shakes, he was all about health that one, I'm sure it's all granola bars, lean meat, fish and salads.

Giving head isn't all that bad, I actually kinda liked it. I think I'm good at it, well from Brendan's reaction I must be okay at least. Definitely better than the first time.

I rest my forehead against his belly, I feel oddly relaxed stroking his hips, my fingers just going up and down, up and down. I just want a moment to take in his scent and feel of his skin. Brendan pulls me up, going straight in for a kiss and our clothes are rapidly cast aside. When he eventually pulls away I have to catch my breath, I'm lightheaded.

I feel his cock move along the side of my hip.

"How are you already hard again?" I ask with a grin on my face, feeling smug.

"Stamina, you better get used to it."

He's shameless.

Before I know what's happening, I'm on the cellar floor with him on top of me. I try to speak in between kisses, but it's hard to muster the strength to pull away for long enough to form a full sentence.

"Rimming."

Sucking on his bottom lip, I pull him back down to me.

"What about it?"

He delves into his mouth, our tongues meet again.

"I want to try it."

I smile and lean up for yet another kiss.

"Patients."

He licks a path up my neck, along my jaw before whispering, "We'll do it all."

The warm breath on the side of my face sends a shiver down my spine, making me hard. Brendan reaches down in-between my legs, his fingers running along my sensitive tip. He spits into his palm and continues with a firm up and down motion making my eyes roll back in my head.

"Turn over."

I do as he says, like he's the pied piper and I'm hypnotised, lured in by his enchanted Irish melody. I can feel his tongue travelling, leaving a wet path down the length of my spine. He pulls my cheeks apart and uses his tongue like a paintbrush making light feathery strokes. A gasp escapes me when he licks around my hole, then his tongue is spread flat over it, lapping up until finally plunging in. The heat and wetness is overwhelming, like nothing I've experienced before. I instinctively lean up, so that my arse is sticking up for him to get deeper and explore more, that talented tongue of his snaking and spiralling inside of me.

He pulls away and I'm already feeling spent, I want to collapse in a heap on the floor but his finger replaces the space his tongue had just taken up. My muscle tightens and constrict. He pulls out only to drive right back in, this time the finger is joined by a second. He's fucking me with his fingers and I find myself rocking back into his pushes, hitting the spot every time.

Just when I think I will combust from the pleasure, he pulls out his fingers and pulls me up to my knees. I hear the rustles of a condom rapper, then he gradually pushes himself all the way into my entrance. I contract around him, breathing through the initial pain while I adjust to the entirety of him.

Brendan takes hold of my hips, his nails leaving their mark as he trusts into me, faster, harder and a lot less tender than our first time. He's unrestrained, maybe because he thinks I can handle more or maybe he really hasn't been with anyone else since me, either way I'm aroused beyond belief and so just go with it.

We climax together, our cries ferociously bouncing off the walls. Then we both are still, simultaneously realising we're in the club during working hours. Brendan listens out for a while, for footsteps or voices. Convinced that nobody's heard us he melds over my back laughing at our panic and the sound of his laughter is contagious.

He kisses my neck before pulling out and offers me a hand to get up. We watch each other get dressed, neither of us saying a word yet not taking an eye off the other. When we're fully clothed he looks over to the door, he's going to leave without saying a word, yet again.

I'm stunned when he pulls me in close to him and plants an unhurried kiss on my lips. There's no tongue involved yet I feel like we're completely opening up to one each other, like he's given me his body, I know I've given him mine. When he pulls away I swear the look, he's thinking the same thing or maybe it's just the afterglow of sex.

Snap, I'm back to reality. All the air has left the room and the gravity follows close behind, and I'm left floating breathlessly. All I can do is laugh, laugh at myself because this is just sex, no strings attached. We agreed, he made sure of it.

"What?" He asks.

My lungs expand and I'm pulled back down to earth.

Just sex.

A bit of fun.

Convenient.

No strings.

Nonexclusive.

Basically fuck-buddies.

"Remember this is just convenient sex." I'm reflecting. "Don't fall for me."

I don't need to hear him say it again so I turn and leave. Run from it.

{~}

After that night in the cellar we can't keep our hands off of each other, starved snogs, sucking and biting, illicit touching and frantic gropes every chance we get. And the sex, we're doing it anywhere and everywhere, the club, his place, my flat, we've even done some seriously nasty stuff in the ally by the club.

I'm in the Dog with Amy, Brendan's across the pub and I can't keep my eyes off him. He gets up, heading towards the gents and I'm on autopilot, following without giving it a thought.

He's expecting me, waiting by the end cubical. I basically leap on him, crushing our lips together, ipassionate and frantic. In one flowing movement Brendan has me pinned between him and the wall. Pulling away to look me in the eye while his hand snakes down my boxers and around my cock, firm and slow. We've been at this for almost two months now and I know his body completely, what he likes and how he likes it. I chew on his bottom lip knowing what it does to him, that he'll want to forgo any and all foreplay.

At that very moment we hear the toilet door swings open and feet shuffle towards the urinals. Brendan freezes instantly, his eyes wide, wild and intense, wordlessly telling, warning me to be silent. I hold my breath because I know being found like this, with me, in the cubical of a public toilet is inconceivable to him.

After a while I become impatient, waiting for whoever it is to finish and leave becomes too much and something takes over. I give him a lustful smile and whisper fuck me now, licking his ear. I don't know how he will react but he's eyebrow is raised with intrigue. Maybe it's the rush or maybe he's surprised by my boldness, but he nods.

We hastily undo our jeans, he quickly rolls on a condom before flipping me over, my front flat against the tiled wall. He kicks out my feet, my legs are as far apart as possible and positions my hips into the right angle, and without any preparation he's pushing into me and I have to bite my bottom lips to stop myself crying out.

Brendan is all about control and if I'm totally honest I like it that way. I know it's me he wants, so I grant him total use of my body, he has the power to do what ever he wants to me. He knows things about my body that I don't, like I was made just for him or he'd been studying it for hundreds of years just waiting for me.

I don't know when it happened but Brendan's chest has become perfectly shaped to fit into the curve of my back, his lips taken place on my shoulders while he lavishes me with slow and deep thrusts. I pull at his hips, trying to bring us closer, him deeper. His hand finds its way around my cock, his thrust and pump syncing together.

I whisper I'm going to come, but it's Brendan who reaches it first, his orgasm travels through me and our bodies quiver as one, whilst he rides it out inside me. My climax is propagated by the intensity of his, my cum spilling out over his hand as I let out silent breaths.

He pulls out.

"Sure you can't come round later?"

I pull up my jeans.

"Nah, I can't. Amy's in a state after that Josh broke up with her, says he 'can't do the long distance thing and concentrate on his studies'. I said we'd hang out tonight just the two of us, we've got a baby sitter and everything."

He zips up and buckles his belt.

"In other words, the lad is swimming in pussy and doesn't need the hassle of a girlfriend."

He leaves the cubical to wash his hand.

"Alright, no need to be so tactless."

I look at my reflection in the mirror, my hair is a mess.

"You know me Steven, I say it how it is. She's better off."

He dries is hand on paper towels.

"How'd you figure?"

I comb my fingers through my hair, blushing at the memory of Brendan's fingertips running across my scalp just moments before.

"How long has he been gone for and he's ended it already? Not exactly mister dependable."

"Yeah, you're right. Never liked the smug git anyway."

He puts a stick of gum in his mouth, chewing it in that obscene yet sexy way that he does.

"You should head out first, I'll follow in a minute."

Before I go I give him a fleeting kiss.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

{-} {-} {-}

I should be at the club signing for deliveries and sorting the rota for the next couple of weeks. Yet I'm here, outside the door of Steven's council flat only 15 minutes after he texted me.

Amy's gone to get the kids from the babysitters, then off to the shops. U should cum round, pick up were we left off yesterday. We can be as load as we want.

I had been up for a while, it was far too early in day to call or to even be to be thinking of him, but I was. It's all I can think of lately. His pouty lips and the things he can do with them, how responsive he is, the way he screams my name. The boy has flourished sexually, knows what he wants and isn't afraid to ask for it, to take it. It's the little things that drive me wild, that keep him on my mind. So when I received that text I'm out of the door in less than two minuets.

He opens the front door wearing a white t-shirt that clings to him beautifully, blue boxer shorts and black socks. And he looks fucking delicious, all bronzed skin and tussled bed hair-

"Is this going to be like the beginning of a really bad porno. You come here to fix the the boiler but we end up doing it on the kitchen counter?" Steven laughs, looking down at the toolbox in my hand.

He kisses me, it's soft and gentle, his tongue painting strokes of pressure throughout my mouth, it's spine tingling. He's fresh out of bed, warmth radiating from his body, in contrast I'm slightly numb from the autumn morning outside. His hands make their way around my torso, enclosing me.

At times Steven can be delicate with me, I've never had that before.

"I like the way you think, but no, I came to fix that bloody shower of yours."

"Really?" He asks, looking at me in surprise.

"You're always going on about Amy nagging at you to fix the dodgy shower, thought I'd fix it once and for all."

I walk him through it, because a man should know how to fixes these things. He unscrews the showerhead head, and without it the water flow is fine so I tell him 'it must be the filter screen inside the showerhead'. He looks inside it, his face crinkles and he says 'eww, that's rank that it' at the amount of lime scale that has built up. I show him how to dismantle it so we can rinse off and dislodge it all. After inspecting every piece I have him put it all back together.

"Turn on the tap."

Water flows out in full force and he looks at me like I've just cured some highly infectious flesh-eating bacteria.

"Voilà!"

"Amy's going to be chuffed."

"What's my reward?"

Steven leads me to his bedroom, first my t-shirt goes, then his revealing his slender torso, tanned with flat nipples. My cock is straining at its confines so he frees it, removing my jeans and underwear together. I lean him backwards onto the bed, and he tilts his hips so I can tug of his shorts. I make my way down his body, sucking slowly as I go. His cock and balls are just asking for my tongue to slide along them, who am I to deny him?

"Hey, hey, hey we don't have time for all that." He says pulling me back up to him. "Amy is going to be back soon."

"What, so this is just a quick booty call? Going to use me for my body and then throw me out?"

"Well what else are you good for?"

"Uh." I frown feigning rejection. "Good thing I like it when you're assertive."

"Oh, I'm going to be way more than assertive, you are going to exactly what I tell you to do."

"Yes boss."

"Boss." He sings out. "I like that. Say it again."

"Don't push it." I look down at him, I want to scold him but I can't stop the smile spreading across my face because I adore him like this. He gets horny as hell and it makes him demanding.

I like a bossy bottom. This bossy bottom.

"Go get a condom." He orders.

"I don't have one, I left my wallet at home."

"I've got some in the draw."

He rolls off the bed and I slap his he perky bum, the way he looks back at me I know I'm in for a morning of fun.

He ruffles through the chest of draws, and he's actually humming and doing a little dance. When he turns around he's frowning like a petulant child being told off by a schoolteacher.

"We're out."

He's hold the empty box.

"We're out? We can't be out, I bought that big box."

"They're all gone, all 30 of 'em."

"We've been busy." I beam, reminiscing. "I'll run to the shop."

"There isn't time. Remember? Amy and the kids."

"Well, there are other things we can do in that time."

I yank him back so we're sat up together, Steven straddles my lap, grinding down as my tongue dances against his.

"Lets just do it." He mumbles against my lip.

"What?"

"I want you to fuck me. To come inside me."

I lift him off of me and stand up.

"You're serious? Steven, never let anyone fuck you without a condom."

"Any-anyone? I'm not sleeping with anyone else, a-are you?" He's stammering.

He's looking at me desperately all I can do his ignore him, turn my back and put my clothes back on.

"I'm going to go. I need to get back to the club, I've left that idiot Rhys in charge of bringing in a delivery."

He jumps off the bed, puts his hands on my chest to stop me.

"Brendan answer the question, are you seeing other men?"

"I'm not 'seeing' anyone, I'm not your boyfriend Steven. It's none of your business what or who I fuck."

He looks hurt, and I want to take him up in my arms and tell I haven't been with anyone else, but I physically can't. Emotionally stunted as ever. It's not just that though, I need for him to understand the seriousness of being safe to keep him healthy, because I want him around … for the foreseeable future.

Fuck.

So I don't tell him. I don't tell him that I haven't even looked at anyone else, I haven't needed to since he's been in my life. Something I haven't even admitted to myself until now.

"I don't owe you any explanation."

I can't look at him anymore, if I see the pain I've caused I may just take it all back. Instead I attempt getting passed again but he's blocking the door.

"Steven, move."

"Nah, don't act like you don't care. You've just fixed me shower, you know Amy's been in a bad place so you helped me do summin nice for her."

I laugh, and it's condescending and it's cruel. "No, I did it so I could take a decent shower after I'm done with you."

"Done we me?" He mutters under his breath. Then he looks up at me, and he's not sad anymore, it's anger in his eyes. "Why are you being like this?" He snaps.

"Being like what? You're the one being clingy and needy. This," I motion between us, "it is just sex, no emotions." I say it with conviction that I don't believe, but I need to say it for myself as much as for him.

He finally lets me pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: things get kinky


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get pretty kinky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was never what I originally set out to write, I remember it taking a life of it's own, and I had no idea it was going to take the direction that it did.

He can't be seeing anyone else.

When would he even have time for anyone else?

We're always at work, together.

Or somewhere hidden, hooking up.

I would know.

Unless he's picking up guys on the nights that I don't work or when I'm busy with the kids?

The voice inside my head gets loader, burrowing away, more frantic.

Why isn't he saying anything?

Say something.

"Brendan answer the question, are you seeing other men?" I sound like a paranoid housewife.

"We're not seeing each other, I'm not your boyfriend Steven. It's none of your business who I fuck."

So there are other men.

Brendan's always been completely transparent about what this is, but he's never treated me like this. This is cruel and beyond his normal bluntness, he's being nasty. I don't believe it. I know in the beginning we both agreed this was just sex and that was enough, but things have changed. No, we're not a couple, we don't do the things that couples do. We don't go on dates or hold hands or watch telly and we've never spent the night together, but we are something. He cares about me and I know I'm not making it up, there's no way this is all in my head.

But right now he's not even looking at me.

"Nah, don't act like you don't care. You've just fixed my shower, you know Amy's been in a bad place so you helped me do summin nice for her."

He's laughing at me, pity in his eyes.

"No, I did it so I could take a decent shower after I'm done with you."

I feel like my world is jumbled up, nothing make sense. Like a jigsaw puzzle with misplaced pieces.

"Done we me?" I say to myself, trying to comprehend his words.

To him I'm a flimsy white plastic fork to snap in half, the type that comes with a takeaway, a throwaway. I'm disposable.

"Why are you being like this?" I shout at him.

I shout because I'm angry, angry with him and angry with myself. This man, the first man that I was with, that I've given all of my physical self to, doesn't give a fuck. I wanted to give him more, not just my body but part of my soul but he doesn't even want it.

"Being like what?" He barks. "You're the one being clingy and needy. This, it's just sex, no emotions."

Clingy and needy.

He doesn't feel a thing for me, no emotion.

Done with me.

I'm just making a nuisance of myself now, a bother.

I move out of the way, defeated.

{~}

I walk to work in a bubble, head down, hand stuffed in pockets, kicking every can or rock that I pass in frustration. I don't want to see him right now. The down side to sleeping with the boss, you can't avoid him when your secrete gay fuck buddy situation inevitable goes tits up. I'll just keep busy, keep my head down. Or maybe I should march into his office and try and make a mends, sooner rather than later, right?

What do I say? The way we left things I don't even know if it's over. Did I just get dumped? No, he wasn't my boyfriend and you can't be dumped if you were never actually together.

I'll tell him, 'pretend like this morning never happened, lets go back to normal'. But that would sound pathetic, desperate and it would just proved his point, that I'm clingy. Using each other for sex is one thing, but he doesn't see me as a person I can't go back to being an undignified hole. I should get out now, before I get my heart broken. But I can't imagine not being with him again, never feeling his touch and never hearing him say 'I want you Steven' again.

I'm standing outside the entrance to Chez Chez, even more confused. I almost walk straight past it, I could circle back round, go back to my flat, hide under my duvet. No, I can't run from my problems, if I don't come in today he'll know why, think me weak for it.

I'm a man, that's what he's always going on about, a man does this and man does that. A real man faces his problems head on. So I take a deep breath in, mustering all the courage I can and step through the doors.

I scan the room for him but don't meet his blue eyes or find his broad shoulders. He must be in the office, before I can cheek Rhys waves me over.

"Alright mate, am I glad to see you? I haven't had time to restock the shelves, I had to sort a delivery and then before I knew it was opening time." He rushes through the events of the morning, obviously exhausted already. "If you man the bar, I can bring up some crates and change a few barrels."

"Where's Brendan?"

If he's around I'll sort the crates and barrels, keep busy and out of his way, I've chickened out already.

"Dunno, hasn't been in yet. Said he had a breakfast meeting wouldn't be more than an hour and a half, that was four hours ago."

Maybe he's avoiding me? But he wouldn't, would he? No, Brendan Brady doesn't run from anything, something must have come up.

{~}

I spend my shift with my eyes glued to the stairs, waiting for him to appear. Every time I hear footsteps I can actually feel my heart thudding in my chest, sweat drips down my back, my hands get clammy and my stomach knots. Even Rhys notices, 'what's up with you?,' 'stop daydreaming will ya?', 'the queue's backing up while you visit Lala Land!'.

I don't have to wait long for Brendan to show up, I should have know I'd recognise his foot steps as soon as I heard them. Leaping up two at a time, when he reaches the top he's sweaty, soaked through his workout clothes with a black beanie on.

He looks hot like this, masculine. I didn't know that he exercises, which is ridiculous, I mean look at him. He's never mentioned it though, I guess we don't do a whole lot of talking.

I want to go over tell him 'lets rewind, star over again. People argue and it probably won't be the last time we do, but that's fine because making up will be fun'.

But I don't because he's laughing, talking to someone behind him. It's that John Paul McQueen.

"There's no two ways about it. When I reached the edge of the woods you were at least a minute out."

I busy myself, crouching down to load the dishwasher so I can listen to their conversation unnoticed. He walks behind the bar, picks out a couple of bottles of water and throws one to John Paul on the other side of the bar.

"Mate only because I tripped over a log!"

"I won, simple."

"Fine you won. What do you want form me?"

'What do you want form me', what the fuck does that mean?

"My cars filthy, it need washing."

"That it?"

"What did you think I was going to ask for?"

"Dunno, something more sinister." He admits.

"Been listening to the rumour mill I see."

"You know how it is. People talk, I can't help but hear things."

Brendan stares at John Paul with dead eyes, before relaxing and smiling. "I'm only messing. What were you going to ask me for?"

"Extra nights to DJ and maybe running one of the club night we talked about."

"I think I can do that anyway."

"Really? That would be great, we could really do with the extra money."

"Don't mention it. People like your set, might as well make use of all your talents. Go home shower, I'll do the same and come back later to wash my car. Then we can talk business."

'Make use of all your talents' and what the fuck does that mean?

{~}

"Is the boss in?" Mitzeee smiles at me from across the bar.

I smile back but I still feel awkward around her. She's the only other person that knows the truth about Brendan, but he hasn't told her about us. Made some lame excuse, 'she gets carried away and I don't want her reading too much into it. I'll never get her to shut up'. Which to be fair I can imagine, the girl is a Class A Gossip and Brendan doesn't talk about his sexuality, like ever. But they're so close and she already knows he sleeps with men so what would be the harm? I can't help but think he just doesn't want to admit that he's having sex with me, because he's ashamed of me.

"Brendan, where is he?"

"How would I know?" I snap, irritated and defensive.

"You work for him, I thought you might have seen him around."

"Yeah, sorry. He was in earlier for a couple of minutes."

"How did he seem? I phoned earlier and he was in a right mood. I thought maybe something happened here?"

"We didn't speak. He was with John Paul, but he seemed fine, happy enough." I say the last bit to myself, realising the fight this morning obviously hadn't affected him like it had me.

A morning with John Paul and it's forgotten.

"John Paul the DJ, right? Does he come round here a lot then?"

What is she implying?

"He works here." I play dumb, so she has to explain exactly what she means.

"I mean in the daytime when he's not working, does he come round to see Brendan?"

So she thinks it too, that there's something going on? Is Brendan some kind of gay Lothario, men hidden all over the village?

"Ste?"

I blanked out again, carried away with my thoughts drying the same glass even though it's completely dry from the dishwasher.

"Uh?"

"That McQueen lad and Bren, do you know if they're friends?"

The way she said 'friends' was loaded, riddled with insinuation.

Friends.

"I dunno, I haven't seen them together before today. Apparently they workout together, running."

"Workout, huh." She's smiling to herself, clearly think the same thing as me but has a very different reaction. 'Let him know I popped round and I'm expecting an apology for the way he spoke to me."

I don't respond, my head is filled with even more thoughts. I've only ever seen Brendan talk to John Paul once, before that time things started in the cellar. When John Paul comes in for work they don't talk but they're obviously more than employee and employer.

{~} {~} {~} {~}

After taking a shower and changing into a suit I go back to the club, determined to sort out this mess with Steven. I look out for him and when our eyes meet across the room and I want to drag him into the office but the club is heaving with people. Instead I grab onto this excuse, choosing to simple nod before retreating.

I'm being a coward, I know this but the way I'm beginning to feel about this lad is overpowering. I hate the idea that my emotions and attraction towards another person are out of my control. Especially when that person is a man. He's always on my mind though, when I wake up, before I fall asleep, even when one of those irritating pop songs comes on the radio I catch myself smiling at the thought of his uncoordinated dancing.

I'm sat at my desk, rubbing my hands over my face because I'm frustrated and tired and I don't know what to do or say. This is all getting too much and I can feel myself going down a road that I don't want to.

Why would God give me these feelings and desires just to tell me they're wrong?

I try to distract myself with paperwork and staff rotas but I never look down at the books on my desk or even lift a finger. I end up playing with the Newton's cradle, staff come in for till floats, people enquire about vacancies and John Paul collects a bucket and cleaning materials but my eyes never leave the magnetic swinging balls and my ears don't stop listening out for his voice on the other side of the door.

Eventually John Paul returns and I can't help but laugh at the sight of him. "Raining outside?"

"This making use of all my talents, is it? Me cleaning your car in the rain?" He complains while dripping water all over my floor.

"We've all got to start some where JP." I say while getting up for the storage cupboard behind me. I search through the stack of neatly folded uniforms until I find a Chez Chez t-shirt that looks about his size. "Here." I throw it over to him.

While he changes out of his wet jumper Steven walks in, he looks flustered and nervously fiddles with the edge of his hem. I wait for him to say something but he just stares, I guess he doesn't know how I'll react after this morning.

I make the first move before John Paul figures out there something wrong. "Did you want something Steven?"

"Err … Yeah I just wanted to check the rota for the next fortnight." His voice is small and he looks deflated, it pulls at my heartstrings because I know I've caused this.

"I haven't had time to sort it yet."

"If you want I can do it?"

After a few of our Sundays together going over orders and stock lists I soon realised that Steven had trouble with reading and writing. He would call himself 'stupid' and 'thick', but I make sure he knows he's not. I tell him some of the smartest people, doctors, lawyers even politicians are dyslexic but they don't let it hold them back, neither should he. To do the rota you need to know the number of people that are need for different shifts on different days, the hours people can work, what days they can work, sorting over time and then there's making it so Rhys and Jacqui don't work the same shift because all they do is flirt. The way Steven can wrap his mind around the rota makes him anything but thick.

"Yeah that would be helpful."

He picks up the folder from my desk and settles into the sofa smiling at me the entire time, but it's a sad smile. It's the smile that makes me want to slowly rid him of his clothes while covering him with kisses all other until he's happy again. I definitely need to make sure he's back onside.

"Ready to go through my club night ideas?" John Paul asks, the sound of his voice reminding me that he's still in the room.

"Yeah, sure. You go out to the bar order a couple of beers and get us a table. I'll be out in a second, I need to run through a few things with Steven first."

With the door closed and the two of us alone in the office, where there are so many heated memories all I want is to pounce on him. But John Paul is waiting and I know if I start I won't be able to stop with just a kiss.

So, I stay standing looking down at him. "Can you stay behind at the end of your shift, after everyone is gone?"

"Sure, if you want. What for?" He asks standing up to face me.

I step back till my spine is against the door to widen the space between our bodies. "We need to talk."

With that I leave the shrinking walls of the office before my resolve breaks.

{~}

After that the drinks start flowing, I become more relaxed and time goes past quite fast. John Paul's ideas are great and I'm sure he can see pound signs in my eyes. Once the business talk is done with he stays for more drinks and it's nice to have a friend to have a laugh with.

Anne comes stomping in later in the evening, flirting with every guy that shows her any attention. Trying to make a point I'm sure. Once John Paul is gone I apologise for my bad mood and bribe back her affection with a dinner at Il Gnosh, she's ecstatic while I'm just staving.

I hadn't seen Steven all day, on the way out I notice him working the bar down stairs, which is strange because one of the part timers normally does that. I try to gain his attention on the way out but he never meets my eye.

{~}

At the restaurant the food is great but company not so much, Anne is still angry with me and just goes on about the way I should be treating her. So I order bottle after bottle of expensive wine to shut her up. The girl is easy, you lavish her with expensive things and she's putty in your hands, her mood improving ten fold. We sit and talk for hours, about her career, my son, I tell her that I'm thinking of buying the flats beneath the one she shares with Nancy and knocking through the wall to make the club bigger and she suggests we take a holiday.

Then we get onto the subject of men, even in my inebriated state I do not feel comfortable with this topic of conversation, so I mostly just sit and listen. She makes a comment about John Paul, asking if he has something to do with my improved mood over the last few weeks. But I shut her down straight away because we're just friends and I'm happier because the clubs been doing well, but I can't help but think of Steven. Anne knows when to drop it so she moves on to that oafish footballer Riley Costello, and I'm sure she has feelings for even though they are second cousins or something like that. He's too busy tripping over his tongue because of that Mercedes McQueen, I tell her that if he's into the village bike then he's not worth her time because she deserves a good guy.

Finally Tony comes over to kick us out. I hadn't realised how late it has gotten, the restaurant is empty and it's way past closing. When I look down at the receipts and see how many bottles we ordered and the huge bill we've managed to rake up I realise why he just left us to it.

On the way out we trip over each other, trying to walk through the door at the same time. Anne is giddy, high on bubbles and falls over. I pick her up and carrying her to her front door.

"Want to come in for a night cap?" She asks while searching through her bag for keys.

"Are you coming on to me Miss Minniver?" I purr close to her ear, in a low seductive tone.

"In your dreams."

"I assure you, there are no women in my dreams." Only now do I realise how ridiculously drunk I am after a day of drinking. I look over at the club to see the last stumbling stragglers making their way through the village. "I can't, prior engagement at the club."

"Okay, suit your self." Even in her six-inch heels she has to tips toe to places a peck on my check. "Thank you for spoiling me tonight."

{~}

I return to my office, waiting for the last of the staff to leave and for Steven to come to me. When he finally enters the office he stands by the door with his hands behind his back not saying a word. For the first time I'm unable to read his expression.

"Everyone gone?" I inquire.

"Yep, it's just the two of us. I've locked the doors."

"Good lad."

"I didn't think you were going to come back."

"I'll always come to you Steven." That sounded a lot more sentimental than I intended, alcohol always loosens my tongue.

We're both silent for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say. Finally Steven walks over and puts a box on my desk.

"What's that?"

"It's a box of two hundred XL condoms." His head tilts suggestively not unlike the way mine tends to. "Wanna start putting them to use?" He smirks and it's a really filthy smirk, goes straight to my groin.

I make my way to the other side of the table because I have to have him, I have to have him now. He grabs me by the waist, pushes me onto the sofa and straddles my hips. He's tongue is straight into my mouth and he grinds down while his hands explore my body. It's different, like he's leading, taking control and for a second I consider taking it back but it's just so hot. I can't get enough of strong, bossy, confident Steven. He starts to undress me, slowly unbuttoning my shirt and licking a path up my neck.

"This morning ... I was a jerk." I slur.

He stops what he's doing and looks me straight in the eye. "You're drunk."

"Nuh uh!" I grumble like a child.

Steven chuckles. "Uh huh! You smell like a brewery."

"Okay, so I'm absolutely bladdered. Doesn't mean I wasn't a jerk." I state matter-of-factly. "But you can't go around having unprotected sex, okay?"

He nods.

"Because I don't want anything to happen to you, okay? I want you safe, okay?" I fret, stroking his cheek with the back of my hand.

He nods again, before wrapping his fingers across my head and kissing me. But I pull away to look at him.

"What?" His voice is tight and his eyes search mine.

"Just so you know, I'm not currently sleeping with any other men." I don't know why I admit this, but in the moment I can't regret it.

"You're not?" I can tell he's sceptical after my display this morning.

I shake my head in response and he smiles back at me.

"I want you to do unspeakable things to me." He croons against my ear.

He stands up to retrieve a black bag from the corner of the room that I hadn't noticed earlier. I tilt my head in fascination, intrigued by what might be in the bag. He places it on my lap with out saying a word. I use my pointer finger to pry in open.

"Steven?"

He just smiles back at me.

"I see you've been busy."

I empty the contents of the bag on the sofa, as I look down at it I sober up instantly.

"Amy's been reading that 50 Shades book. Says it's proper erotic and stuff."

All I can say is, "I see." I never took Steven for someone that would be into bondage and I've never really thought about it, but I'll try anything once. "You sure?"

"I trust you." He's looking me deep in the eyes, his voice is strong and sincere.

That's all the permission I need. I slowly striping him of his clothes, once they're on a pile on the floor I take a moment to drink in his body. By now I know every inch of it, every mole and every scare but no matter how many times I see him I never appreciate it any less. I run the soft fabric of the blindfold through my fingers then wrapping it securely around his eyes. I reach out to touch him, slowly and gentle like it's our first time, discovering him all over again. He visibly shudders as my hands travel further down his body and his cock springs up in anticipation. I smile to myself before removing my hands, not giving him what he wants.

Instead I position him on the sofa, on his knees, with his arms laying by his side, his head down on the sofa and arse up, before strapping him into the wrist and ankle restraint. I pull his cheeks open, giving me the perfect view of his hole. It's waiting for me, pulsating slightly as he imagines what I'll do next. I kneel behind him so my hard cock brushes against his hole, Steven whimpers as I continue to rub the head against him. He wiggles back, silently requesting to be fucked but we're along way off that yet. He had his chance to have his way with me, but he wanted to play at master and sub so now he must follow by my rules.

I pull away causing him to pout, that earns him a smack with the paddle and he jolts forward, shocked by the contact.

"Be patient. I'm in control here." I bark.

I bend down and flicker my tongue across his pink hole and he breathes in sharply. When I probe a little harder his muscles relax with desire, so I pull away. I reach for the lube he bought, it's strawberry flavoured and I reach over to kiss him because I know the flavour was chosen with me in mind. I pump the lube directly on my tongue probing harder at his hole to transfer it.

Steven rocks his hips up to get me deeper and although his forwardness is normally a massive turn on, tonight it is against the rules. The paddle strikes his bare arse again and I can tell he's holding in any reaction to pain but I also notice he is getting harder.

Fuck, he's horny.

I strike him a few more times, for good measure.

"Stay still, Steven." I instruct.

By now he's already completely opens up and ready for penetration. My eyes wonder to the long mental dildo that had rolled out onto the sofa earlier. This surprised me, but I'm excited to try it out on him. I line it up with his hole before slowly pushing it into him.

"Fuck that's freezing" Steven cries out, as he's muscles clamp down around it creating resistance.

I pull it out and hit the paddle harder on the same spot, this time he is unable to stifle his screams.

"I think it's time I shut you up, Steven."

And he smiles, most likely because he thinks I'm going to kiss him like I normally do to stop him from talking. In place of a kiss I strap the ball gag around his face, enjoying the way his lips curl around it.

I trace the vibrating dildo over his balls before pushing it back into him, faster this, his moans muffled by the gag. I trust it in a few times time, hitting his prostate gland before flipping the switch. The vibrations ripple through him, his hips buckle uncontrollable, pre-come leaking from his slit. Steven is fucking gorgeous. He forgets his hands are strapped down, tries to reach up for his cock. I push them back down, but decide to give him what he wants. Pumping fast and firmly at this cock while my other hand continues fucking him with the vibrating dildo, turning the dial to increase the intensity.

I can tell that it's overwhelming his senses, and even though it hasn't been long he's going to come any second now. Again I hear the muffled moans of pleasure and he comes, more than I've ever seen him do before all over my hand. I switch off and remove the dildo and then unstrap the ball gag.

He gasps for air before murmuring, "That was fucking fantastic."

I don't give him time to recover, I put my fingers in his mouth all at once so he can taste himself. I don't even have to give instructions he clamps down on them, sucking every last drop of come and makes a beautifully indecent slurping sounds.

"Good boy." I praise, kissing his forehead and running my fingers through his hair.

I kiss him and it's explorative and hungry because I love the taste of him. My cock gets harder, uncomfortable against the strain of my tight trouser. I undo my zipper and step out off my trousers and boxers, removing my shoes and socks as I go.

I manoeuvre myself so I'm kneeling on the floor in front of him, my crotch inline with his face. "Open that pretty mouth for me Steven." I growl.

I stroke his lips with my thumb, before inserting into is mouth as an indication of what's to come and then I push my cock between his eager lips. Steven's technique has improved, and as his 'teacher' I feel a little self-satisfied. He takes me deep into his throat while I fuck his face.

Out of the corner of my eye I see one last item from his bag of goodies lodge in the corner of the sofa. I withdraw to fetch it, and examine the bumpy textured vibrating cock ring. I glide it up my shaft and turn it on, and oh my god the pleasure is instant and insane. I slide back into his mouth, the pressure of the cock ring only increases as his lips push on it.

I run my fingers through his soft hair, caressing his scalp the way he likes. I can feel the tension building, I'm going to come and soon so I hold him against me, he nose buried in my hip. He creates a tight vacuum, sealing his lips around my girth while my hot come fills his mouth. He pulls back with a 'pop' and then swallows it all down with delight.

I rest my forehead on top of his head, stoking his back while I recover. I can't get over how this boy continues to surprise me. I release him from the restraints and untie the blindfold. We collapse onto the sofa together, shattered. When he looks over at me, with that ridiculous grin plastered in his face I know he's feeling pretty proud of himself.

"Don't get too comfortable." He grins, biting down and sucking on his bottom lip. "We still got the condoms to start using, and I bet that cocking ring will feel amazing against my tight little whole when you fuck me with it on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Ste's day explained


	7. Chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ste's point of view

It can't have been more than thirty minutes but it feels like an eternity to me, but he's finally comes back to the club, freshly showered, suited and booted with his hair spiked up. Our eyes meet and it's like the lights dim and a spot light shines down on him. In a club full of people all I can see is him and nothing else matters. The line of people waiting to be served forgotten, the pint I'm pulling is over flows, but no of it matter. I want to call out or walk over but he half nods and struts to his office.

He doesn't leave his office all afternoon, not for a drink or something to eat or to micromanage in the controlling way that he does. It's well annoying, yet I miss it, miss him watching from his doorways or hovering behind me, his warm breath on my neck.

People go in to his office and all walking out looking annoyed, he must be in a foul mood. I guess he's avoiding me, and the last thing I want is for things to be awkward. I like working here, the people are friendly, the pay is more than I'll get anywhere else, with no qualifications and a criminal record, and on top of that I get to keep all of my tips.

My anger returns, I'm not going to lose this job and I'm not going to be tossed aside like a used rag. When the queue dies down, I leave Rhys to it and barge into his office ready to shout the odds. I stop, suspended in shock, why is John Paul is topless?

"Did you want something Steven?" He's blasé, not at all bothered by what I've just walked in on.

"Err…" I can't remember the rant I've been practicing for the last forty minutes, so I just make an excuse. "Yeah, I just wanted to check the rota for the next fortnight."

"I haven't had time to sort it yet." He says looking over at the stack of folders on his desk.

"If you want I can do it?" I offer, because right now I can't face interacting with customers, putting on a fake smile and pretending everything is fine. This really is not okay.

"Yeah that would be helpful." Brendan's voice is light, he looks relived and grateful.

I can't help but smile at him because I know how frustrated he gets doing it, and I know for sure he at least appreciates me doing this.

"Ready to go through my club night ideas?" John Paul asks and I'd almost forgot he was still standing there.

I really just want to smack him in the face.

"Yeah, sure. You go out to the bar order a couple of beers and get us a table. I'll be out in a second, I need to run through a few things with Steven first."

He stands over me really looking me in the eye and I can't tell what he's think, and it makes me nervous as fuck.

"Can you stay behind at the end of your shift, after everyone is gone?"

"Sure, if you want. What for?"

I get up, standing close to him because I feel more confidant, may be he wants to go back to normal to? But then he steps back until his back meets the door.

"We need to talk." His voice is tense and serious.

I know what 'we need to talk' means. I take a step forward and he takes like a gazillion back, literally and metaphorically.

{~}

I stay in the office sorting the rota, it doesn't take long so I tidy the office just to waste time. With nothing else to do I sit down at his desk, still not ready to face people. His coat is hanging on the back of the chair, the thing is ridiculous with a fur collar but some how Brendan pulls it off. I try it on because it smells of him, I love being surrounded by his musky aftershave. I place the contents of his pockets on the table: keys, phone, wallet and a pack of gum.

I pick up his phone and then put it back down. I know I'm crossing so many trust and privacy boundaries but I can't help myself. Nervously biting my lip I look over at the door and then pick it up again. First I look through his call log:

Anne

Rhys

Steven

Steven

Paddy

Steven

Steven

Steven

Steven

Anne

Cheryl

Steven

Steven

Steven

Ashleigh

Suppliers

Steven

Steven

Cheryl

I smile at how much we talk on the phone. If we're not together then we're phoning each other. Mostly him asking me to come over when he's free, but sometime I phone him and he just lets me talk.

Then I go through his text messages and it's more of the same. Mostly texts from either me or Mitzeee, there are a few from John Paul all arranging times to meet for a run. I put it back into his pocket feeling stupid and guilty, there's no proof of anything here. All his communication with John Paul is perfectly innocent and there's no evidence of any other men.

I put back the wallet, gum and keys in the pockets I found them in. But then I pull out the wallet again. People say you can tell a lot about a person by what they carry around in their wallet, I've already been snooping so what's the harm?

He carries around a ridiculous amount of cash and normal stuff like debit cards, membership and loyalty cards. He's got a sachet of lube and a couple of condoms – that would have saved us a lot of bother this morning. There are two pictures, one of a cute toddler with dark hair, freckles and Brendan's sea blue eyes, must be his son Declan. The second picture is of a baby girl dressed all in pink, I guess it's his nieces or something.

I look down at his cash and carry membership card smiling, it's given me a great idea. I tell Rhys I'm going on by break and get the bus into town.

{~}

The cash and carry is huge, rows and rows of shelves reaching up to the warehouse ceiling. I'm too embarrassed to ask for what I'm looking for so end up wasting about ten minutes just walking around until I find the sexual health aisle. I stand in front of the condom section looking for the biggest box I can find. There's a box of one thousand but that seem presumptions, I go for five hundred but it's out of my price range and so I settle on two hundred. At the end of the aisle there's colourful display of lube: silky, silicone, water based, extra felling, sensitive but it's the 'tasty' row that catches my eye.

Damn.

There's no strawberry, I could go for cherry or passion fruit but I know how much he likes strawberries.

Walking back to the bus stop I pass an adult sex store, windows blacked out with three X's for a sign. I'm hesitant at first but all I need is a tube of lube, in and out in a couple of minutes. It's exactly what I'd expect, a wall stacked with different types of dildo's and vibrators, a swing hanging from the ceiling with mannequins strapped in, blow up dolls, toys for him, toys for her and a fetish section. Everyone's really casual going about their business but I feel out of place, still standing anxiously by the door. The cashier gives me a little smile, I think she could tell I'm uncomfortable because she comes over and is dead nice. I tell her that all I want his strawberry lube, she fetches it and I'm on my way within minutes.

On the bus ride back to the club I'm feeling pretty good. Brendan and I will stay behind after closing, I'll present him with a giant box of condoms and flavoured lube, and we'll just laugh at how silly we both where this morning. Things will go back to normal.

{~}

When I up walk the club stairs to see Brenan and John Paul still sitting in the corner drinking and laughing it's like the smile is slapped off my face. They where just going to talk about business, what is he still doing here? I cannot spend the rest of my shift with them right in front of me. I go back downstairs and ask Lisa to cover the upstairs bar for me, she happily accepts because the tips tend to be better up there.

Down stairs is a completely different crowd, it's mostly older men and college students here to watch whatever games on. It's not too busy, and I have a lot of time to think. Today's been a total mind fuck, a roller-coaster of emotions. I woke just wanting a quickie with the guy that I've been sleeping with and now I don't know if he still wants me or if he wants me while fucking other guys. I'm not sure if I'm even okay with that, sharing him.

Fuck, here comes Mitzeee again, I don't want to deal with her right now. Even his fake girlfriend seems to know more about him. Maybe I can use that to my advantage, she's a talker and I can get her to open up about him or somehow get advice.

"Is he here?" Mitzeee asks hopping onto a barstool.

"Upstairs having a drink with John Paul." I smile, putting on my best friendly barman act.

"Thanks hun." She waves bye, heading towards the stairs.

"No wait!" I blurt. "He's up there getting drunk with his mate, after being rude to you, and I bet he didn't even call?" I ask scratching at the scab.

"No, he didn't." She's outraged.

"The least he can do is give you a few drinks, on the house of course."

"Too right!" She smiles, taking her place on the barstool once again.

I slowly pour her a large glass of red wine, thinking up a subtle way to ask her about Brendan.

"He always in such a bad mood, why put up with it?"

"You know what, I ask myself the same thing all the time. But he does little things for me to remind me why I stick around. I don't even think he knows it, but he's a really good guy, kind and gentle. At the same time he's all silent and broody which is dead sexy right?"

Really sexy!

"But it also means he's a really good listener."

"Yeah I get that." And I really do, thinking back on our time together Brendan's all those things, he make me feel special without even trying. But there's still the matter of him fucking other guys. "But he's always blowing you off and hanging around other… girls."

Mitzeee laughs at that, we both no Brendan isn't into other girls, but I can't let on that I know he's gay. And it's kind of true, girls are always coming onto him, and he just goes with it.

"Yeah Brendan likes to play the field, so to speak. He's like a little kid with his toys, he gets bored, always on the look out for something bigger and better, flashier. But I know it's not serious, he soon realises he doesn't really want whatever it is he's been chasing." She gulps down the rest of the wine. "Anyway I'm heading up there."

"Bye."

So what I have to be 'bigger and better, flashier' than John Paul or any other guy, but how do I do that? I'm skinny, and have a goofy laugh, I'm not smart and I talk way too much. Brendan's way out of my league and he can probably get any guy he wanted. Maybe I'm the toy he's bored of, but he can't be, he was all over me this morning. So John Paul's the toy then? I just have to make him realise I'm the better choice, and he'll stop chasing that McQueen.

How do I do that?

{~}

John Paul finally leaves, which is like a huge weight being lifted off my shoulders. I half expected them to sneak out together.

A while later Brendan and Mitzeee walk down the stairs. I see they've made up. I can tell he's looking over, but I can't make eye contact. I feel really insecure, I'm not just competing with clever pants and super talented John Paul, it's Mitzeee his confidant and any other guy out there that's probably way more experienced than me.

I realise now that my feelings for him are a lot stronger than I thought and I don't want to lose him.

I let Rhys know I'm heading out for a while and get the bus back into town, back to XXX.

{~}

By the time Brendan comes back the club is closed and we're cleaning up. I hang around waiting for Rhys and Lisa leave and lock us in because I definitely don't want anyone walking in.

I walk into the office with the box hidden behind my back, but I'm nervous and for once I don't know what to say. Luckily he breaks the silence, wants to know if we're alone. I want to ask if he still wants me, but I don't want the answer so instead I say 'I didn't think you were going to come back'. 'I'll always come back to you Steven' he slurs and his accent is heavy, but he leans forward and he's looking at me like I'm the only person in the word and I believe him. 'I'll always come back to you Steven' it's like the most beautifully romantic thing I've ever heard. I place the box of condoms on the desk.

He walks over and I can tell he's turned on, he's eyes are completely black and his lips are turned up into the smallest smile. I push him down onto the sofa tongue exploring every crevice of his mouth while my hands discover his body. I start to undress him, nibbling and licking his neck.

"This morning ... I was a jerk."

I stop because it sounds like he's apologising and Brendan never apologies even when he's obviously in the wrong. I tell him he's drunk and carry on.

"Nuh uh!"

He sounds like a little kid and it makes me laugh, I've never seen him like this. "Uh huh! You smell like a brewery."

"Okay, so I'm absolutely bladdered. Doesn't mean I wasn't a jerk. But you can't go around having unprotected sex, okay?"

Even though he's drunk I can tell that he's being serious, so I nod.

"Because I don't want anything to happen to you, okay? I want you safe."

He strokes my cheek and his voice his small and just a little bit sad. All I can do is nod again. I get it now, he's worried about me. I kiss him again, as a way to say thank you but he pulls away.

I look into his eyes but I have no idea what he's thinking, I just want to stay in this happy moment but I have to know. "What?"

"Just so you know, I'm not currently sleeping with any other men."

"You're not?" I want to smile, but it sounds to good to be true.

I want to ask him about John Paul, because I still have an uneasy feeling about the two of them but before I can he shakes his head and that's all I need. I'm 100% sure that I want to do this. I tell him I want you to do unspeakable things to me, and then I give him the big black bag from XXX. When Brendan sees what's in it he looks surprised and unsure but I tell him I trust him.

{~}

When we fall back onto the sofa together, exhausted and covered in sweat and other bodily fluids I can't stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Danny Houston is causing problems for Brendan.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day from Ste's point of view

 

"Easy!"

Steven has been up and down the stairs, restocking the fridges and every time he puts a crate down the bottles rattle against each other.

"You know what? You could help me out, instead of just standing there." Steven complains, out of breath.

I could, but honestly I'm enjoying the view of him repeatedly bending over way too much.

"A workout will do you good, help build up those little chicken arms of yours."

He flops his arms exasperated. "Ahhh … there's six more crates."

"That's great, just think of it. By the time you're done you could have a bicep." I tease, squeezing his arms.

Steven does that pouty smiles thing with his lips. "Shut up!"

He pushes me a little so I nudge him back. Then we're just smiling and can't take our eyes off of each other. I don't usually notice people's eyes, but there's something about his that's got me enthralled, even after all this time. I've never been into a guy this long, even with Vinnie I just started to lose interest. If it weren't for Jacqui walking up the stairs right now I'd be all over him. Instead I head back to the office, our hands grazing as I brush past him.

I'm sat her grinning to myself like a Cheshire cat. Steven, he's got me smiling. After that more sexually adventurous night all those weeks ago things have been good. We managed to get back to normal without a big emotional talk. There's nothing I hate more than getting all touchy feely, I'm no good with articulating how I feel.

I did admit that I wasn't sleeping with anyone else, and I can still feel the anxiety rising inside me like bile whenever I think about it. Thank god he didn't bring it up. He knows that I only want him, we have this unspoken promise that he's mine and I guess that I'm his.

We're each other's.

{-}

"Brendan Brady."

My good mood vanished as soon as I hear that familiar gruff cockney accent. Danny Houston is standing at the doorway of my office. I haven't seen or spoken to him since moving to the village.

Danny gave me a job when I first moved to England, and I'm grateful for that but now I want out of that life. When I was living in Liverpool it was about more than just the money. My marriage had just ended, Eileen refusing to let me see Declan, I was self destructing and living off of the adrenaline from my dangerous life. Here in Hollyoaks I have a fresh start with the clubs, I've made an actual friend in Anne… and I have Steven.

Whatever Danny Houston is doing here it isn't good.

Danny trusted me with his businesses – legal or other wise – I would even go as far as saying we were friends, but I was always wary of him. The guy is unpredictable, look at him the wrong way and he'll have you kneecapped, he needs very little reason to kill a person – men, women, children it doesn't matter to him. So I'll have to humour him, figure out what he wants and get him out of my life as quickly as possible.

"Danny!" I smile stretching out my arms as friendly gesture. "It's been too long. Take a seat, I'll pour us drinks."

We sit drinking whiskey for the better part of an hour, laughing over anecdotes from my time in Liverpool. Things that happened at the club I ran for him, deals gone wrong, the fights we got into. At the back of my mind I am constantly aware that he's not just here for a friendly catch up, I never let my guard down.

"Brendan, do'u wanna-" Steven burst into the office with a cheeky smile on his face, but stops half way through whatever it was he was going to say when he spots Danny.

The room is instantly thick with tension, Danny's just looking Steven over, assessing him and I can tell it makes him anxious. When Danny turns back to me there's a look in his eye, like total awareness and it sends a shiver down through my spine.

"Not now Steven." I'm stern and sharp, hoping he can sense my apprehension.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were in a meeting."

"Nah this ain't business just boys stuff, Brendan and I are old friends. Well that was till he opened his own club and forget the people that helped get him get here." His tone is light but I see through the charade. "Danny Houston." He introduces himself.

"Ste."

"How does Brendan treat you? Good boss is he?"

"Yeah, he's mint."

Enough with the idle chit chat, I need for Steven to leave. "Did you want something?"

"Err…. Yeah I just wanted to let you know I'm going on my break."

"Okay." I nod and he leaves.

_Thank God._

"Danny, lets just cut to the chase shall we? Why are you here?"

"I told you, I'm her to catch up. See how you're doing. Can a man not check in to make sure his protégée has landed on you feet."

"Not buying it."

"Alright you got me." He raises his palms in defeat, smirk on his face. "I need you to do a little business for me, like you did in Liverpool."

"I don't want drugs anywhere near my club."

"I'm not talking just your club, I want to take over the whole of Cheshire starting right here in Chester. Think about it, you've got the college and the local sixth form. All those students with student loans to blow through, it's a gold mine."

"It's not going to happen."

His expression switches, eyes cold and lips tight. Danny Houston is not used to being told no.

"Brendan when you came to me, looking to make big money, did I turn you away? No. I saw your potential and brought you into the fold, my inner circle. I let you oversee the whole of South Liverpool, ensured you were making the money you needed without getting you hands too dirty. Low risk, high reward. When you got what you wanted and then up and left I didn't say a word. Now, when I come to you with the opportunity to be involved in the expansion my portfolio you have the nerve refuse?"

"Nothing personal Danny, I'm just done with drugs."

He's looking straight at me, gaze never faltering. He's trying to make me break the stare, intimidate me but I'm not going to budge. He's frustrated because he knows that I never back down, that's what he had liked most about me.

He lets out a sigh, humming loudly and I know he's figured out his next move.

"That Ste, remind you of anyone?"

"No."

Where is he going with this?

"That barman at my club in Liverpool, little lad, blond hair."

"Vinnie."

"Yeah, he looks a lot like little Vinnie."

I subtly rearrange myself before answering, trying to appear nonchalant about the direction of conversation. "I hadn't noticed."

"Oh Brendan, we both know that just isn't true." I had figured Danny knew about Vinnie and I but it wasn't something he ever brought up. I was always grateful for that. "Poor kid, was under the impression that once you had made enough money to open your own club you'd take him with you."

"I never promised him that. I never promised him a thing."

And I hadn't. I wanted a release, an escape, and there was Vinnie, free and uninhibited. I was lonely after leaving Ireland, Vinnie was the firsts guy I was with more than once but it was nice to have a warm body next to mine at night. So I moved in with him and went to clubs and for dinners to make him happy because I needed someone, anyone. But then one day the way he looked at me, I knew something had changed and it just filled me with dread. So I starting doing more deals, getting in deeper to get the money I need, as fast as humanly possible. When I had enough of it I left in the middle of tight, bags packed, without a word.

I know now not to make the same mistake with Steven, not to get too close.

"He wanted a fairytale ending instead he was abandoned. Didn't cope too well, started dipping into my merchandise but couldn't pay up. The silly little gay boy tried it on with the wrong person." His voice is filled with disdain. "Completely off his face, thought he could trade his ass for my top quality gear. Little Vinnie got was coming to him."

"No, no it was an accident. He died in a car crash."

"No, he didn't."

"I remember reading about it in the papers." Now my voice is strained and my mind is hazy as I realise what it is he is saying. I clench my hand into fists, so tight my knuckles are white.

"Yeah it was nice little touch that, weren't it? It pays to have friends in the media."

"It was you?" My voice is shaky, I try my best to hide it but I can't believe what I'm hearing. Vinnie was a good kid, so much trust in the world and hope, he didn't deserve to die like that.

Did I do that to him?

"Now, if you don't get my product on the street, well you know exactly what I capable of."

I snap out of it, Vinnie did that to himself. He tried ecstasy once and I told him to stay away from drugs and he knew Danny was a dangerous man. No, Vinnie did this to himself, love made him weak.

And really, Danny's trying to threaten me, in my club?

"You forget one thing. I ain't no Vinnie, Danny."

He just smirks. "I'm not explaining myself very well. See I have no plan to hurt you, not yet anyway."

"Well that's a weight off." I quip, dry and sarcastic.

"You see Brendan when you want someone to do something you don't threaten them, you threaten what they care about. It's much more effective."

"Did you just bring my family into this?" I'm standing now, rounding the table to confront him.

"I'm not going to touch your family, they're all the way in Ireland, too much bother that. Lucky for me I know your other little weak spot."

"Say that one more time, please." I hiss, invading his personal space I grab him by the collar and pin him to the wall. "You think you scare me?"

"It's not you I have to scare." He laughs sardonically and it just winds me up more. "It'd be a shame if your new boyfriend met the same fate as Vinnie."

Fuck.

I can feel the twitch in my cheek going off, he's got me backed into a corner and he knows it. I step back and let go of his shirt, dusting him down and rearrange his clothing.

"So, I'll send someone over in a couple a days with your first batch."

{~}

"Bren, you okay?"

"Bren?"

"Brendan?"

I can hear Steven's voice trying to break through the white noise in my head. He's perched on my office desk looking down at me, his lips are tense and his forehead wrinkled. I can't even remember him coming in, I've been in a daze since Danny's visit last night. The revelation about Vinnie's death hit me harder than I'd expect, I feel bad for the kid but most of all I'm scared for Steven.

I'm actually scared.

"Steven I'm fine, stop mithering will ya?"

Danny doesn't do empty threats, now that he's got the boy in his crosshairs he won't hesitant turning him into collateral damage. As much as I hate being under his thumb, I know I have to keep Steven safe. I'll go along with what he wants, for now.

He leans forward and rolls my chair closer to him, stubborn as ever he's not going to let this go. "Don't go brushing me off, you've been in a right mood ever since that Dan bloke came round yesterday."

"Honestly I'm fine, I'm just having one of those days. The delivery was short this morning and Ashleigh, Rhys and Jacqui have all called in sick and no one can cover. It's a Friday the bar isn't fully stocked and my staff aren't even here." I rub my temple, because these last couple of days really have been infuriating.

"Well there's a few hours till opening yet. Give us a list and I'll pop down to the cash and carry for ya and I can help behind the bar tonight."

"Don't be silly, you've had this day off booked for weeks now, to spend some time with your kids. I'll call the temp agency."

"Really it's fine, I need the money right and those guys from the temp agency are proper crap. Anyway, it will be fun just the two of us."

"Okay yeah. Thank you, Steven."

With a fleeting kiss on my cheek, list in hand and money for a taxi, Steven's off.

{~}

Then he's back in no time storming into my office, door slamming behind him and face like thunder.

"Are you serious?"

I have no idea what he's on about. He was so chirpy before he left and he can't have been gone for more than an hour and a half. What's happened?

"What's _he_ doing out there?" He barks, pointing at the door.

"Who, John Paul?"

"Yes. John fucking Paul."

"I need the staff." I state confused.

"I said I'd help you."

"I have calls to make tonight." I need to find people to peddle Danny's drug, a package will be delivered tomorrow and I need to get into action. "An extra pair of hands will be useful, it's busy this time of year."

"Yeah, but why him?"

"Jacqui sent him. Her and Rhys are blatantly skiving off, so I fired Rhys. I'm done with that waste of space. Told Jacqui she's be out of a job too if she didn't get her shift covered. She sent her brother."

"Oh, right."

He's embarrassed and pouting again and it's so fucking cute.

"I know you two don't get on but can you play nice, just for tonight? For the sake of my business if nothing else."

"Yeah, I can do that. It's him with the problem, he's so into himself. All _'oh look at me I go to college and I'm Chester's best DJ'_ thinks he's dead important."

I double over with laughter, his attempt at impersonating John Paul is ridiculous but somehow endearing. I finally feel relaxed and at ease. I close the space between us, taking him up into my arms grateful for his presence.

"If you train him up and make it through the night I'll make it worth you while."

"You will, will ya? Maybe I need a preview, make sure it's actually worth it."

I laugh to myself lightly, always up for it this one.

I know the kiss will be incredible, because it always is with him. But I hold out on him, leaning in close but not touching. He's lips part and the tip of his tongue slips out slowly between us. I insert my thigh in between his legs and plant soft, wet kisses up his jaw before nibbling on his ear the way he likes. Steven's muscles melt instantly in my arms and I know I've got him.

I pull away.

"There will be more of that after your shift."

"You Brendan Brady are a tease." He's faking anger, but I can still see the beginnings of a smile as the promise of tonight lingers between us.

{~}

I spend the day calling old contacts with no avail. The type of operation Danny wants will need manpower and I just don't know enough people in the area. At this point I'll be on the street dealing the stuff myself, which isn't an option.

It doesn't help that as soon as I mention Danny's name most won't even let me finish speaking, their survival instinct kick in. Apparently the number of accidental deaths and unexplained disappearances surrounding Danny recently has increased exponentially. The guy is on a mission to put people in their place but it's just bad business.

How am I supposed to set up shop when he's made sure no one is willing to work for him?

And what is that noise? I can hear raised voices, even over the music and I think a bottle just smashed. There better not be a brawl in my club, I don't need this tonight.

I open my office door to see Ste and John Paul wrestling. At first it's comical, John Paul has him a headlock and Ste's pulling at his leg trying to mess with his footing. It's the most hilarious thing I've seen, that is till they fall into the shelves and expensive bottles of whisky, brandy and top shelf vodka come crashing down. Then a tube comes loose and there's beer spraying everywhere and punters shrike as they get soaked. I quickly run over, turn off the beer tap and then I literally have to pull apart the two shouting men.

"What do you think you're doing?" I scream looking at the mess of smashed glass and alcohol of the floor.

They both fall silent, like petulant children looking anywhere but at me.

"One of you better say something." I warn, losing patients.

"He was pinching me." John Paul whines, rubbing at the red nail marks on his arms.

"He was pinching you?" I repeat. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're acting like a couple of schoolgirls. John Paul get a mop and clear up this safety hazard." I look over at Steven and he's fiddling with the hem of his shirt, chancing a look at me through his lashes. "Steven, go home."

"But, he started it." He retorts.

"You two obviously can't work together, go home spend the night with you kids."

He storms off, pushing through the crowd, without a word.

I have no choice but to work behind the bar for the rest of the night, it's not like I was having any luck with my new extra curricular activity. After a few free drinks to some wet, disgruntled customers the night goes on without a hitch and it's nice to get on with mundane busy work to get my mind off of Danny's threat.

At least Steven's home, safe for now.

{~}

It's 1:45am, the club is empty and tidy for a new day of business tomorrow. This is normally my favourite part of the day, sat at my desk counting the takings for the night. This is probably the most profitable night yet, the club is doing really well. There's always a queue outside, we even have to send people away because we reach capacity early on. It's everything I've ever wanted, my business is a success.

Then why do I still fill empty, like there's something missing? The worst feeling is, I don't even no what it is that I crave. I don't know how, or where to start to feel the whole inside of me.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

"John Paul, you still here?"

"Yeah I was just restocking the bar, it's the least I could do after my… behaviour."

"It's forgotten."

"Good. A drink as a sign of water under the bridge?"

"Sure. You go set 'em up, I'm just going to put this in the safe."

I lock away the takings and go out to the bar, where John Paul has lined up half a dozen shots of vodka.

"A toast to us working together, my club theme night."

"Shots, to toast?" I raise my eyebrow curiously.

"Okay, so my life has been pretty heavy recently and I just need an excuse to get drunk." He confesses.

"That I can drink to." I pick up a shot glass and raise it in his direction. "To getting drunk."

"To getting drunk."

After three shots each we settle into the sofas drinking straight from a bottle. I get drunk fairly quickly, spread out over the sofa, clutching my bottle and were both laughing about that stupid fight. Our laughter dies out and we sit in silence, I can feel his eyes burning into me from across the coffee table.

"What?" I ask, never looking away form the ceiling.

"Don't be too hard on Ste. I was windin' him up all night. I wouldn't want to cause a lover's tiff."

I sit up in shock, almost chocking on my drink.

"I've known for a while."

"What?" I have too many questions to get out. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I used to see you, at that gay bar in Liverpool, Liberty. Always with that blonde."

My stomach churns at the mention of Vinnie. He loved that stupid club.

"At the interview I recognised you straight off the bat. It's the moustache, unforgettable. You were with Mitzeee, so I didn't say anything, wasn't my place. I've outted a guy to their girlfriend, not doing that again. Then I realised there was something going on with you and ' _young steven'_ " He laughs as he put on an Irish accent. "Which I still don't get, he's a proper little scally. I figured you're obviously just not ready to come out yet."

Silence. It's a lot of information to take in.

"Mitzeee, she knows. I'm not messing her around. If my marriage taught me one thing, it was the destruction my dishonesty can cause."

"Look, I haven't come here to try and change your life, you can do it yourself if you want to. I'm just here to have a drink with my mate."

I don't know if it's the alcohol, the stress from the last few days or John Paul's reassuring smile. Maybe it's a combination all three, but I can't be bother to care that another person knows my secrete. So I take him at his word and let my sexuality float to the back of my mind, swept under the carpet yet again. We both go back to our lying positions, the conversation moving on swiftly.

{~}

"I think it's time we headed home."

"I think you are right." John Paul replies in between hiccups.

We both stumble down the stairs, John Paul holding onto my shoulders for support.

"Now that I know you, I wouldn't have thought gay bars were your thing?" He calls from behind me.

"They're not, can't stand the places."

"So, there's no chance of running a weekly gay night here then?"

It had never crossed my mind and at one point I would have found the idea ludicrous. Brendan Brady doesn't run a club for queers! Though one thing about 90% of young gay men is that they've got no kids and plenty of disposable income. It could be a good little moneymaker.

"Not weekly, maybe once a month."

Next thing I know he's jumping up at me like a puppy on acid.

"Are you serious? That would be aaaaammaaaaazing! Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"Okay, okay." I laugh peeling him off me. "You are seriously drunk."

"No you're drunk. I on the other hand don't get drunk, I just get more awesome."

Mr Awesome trips on the step down at the club door, landing flat on his face onto the street.

"Come on, you're in no state to walk home. You're coming back to mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Ste put two and two together and makes five


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night

I nervously wait outside the front door of Brendan's place and eventually the blinds move. I have no idea what to say and I don't know how mad he'll be, Brendan Brady can be unpredictable to say the least. But it wasn't my fault, John Paul was being a complete nob. I know how to win him over – sex – he's easily distracted. So as the door opens I get my face ready with big puppy dog eyes and an over exaggerated pout that I know he won't be able to resist.

But it's not him.

"John Paul?"

He's topless, hair dripping from a shower and a slice of toast in his hands.

_What's he doing here?_

"Hi." He smiles, taking the toast in between his teeth so his hands are free to pull up his zipper and fasten his button.

"Br-Brendan texted." I tell him with furrowed eyebrows, his presence has knocked me for six. "He wanted me to open u-up, I'm here for the keys to the club." I'm so shocked there's no keeping the stutter out of my voice.

"Yeah, we had a mad one last night, just the two of us. After closing. He's well and truly knackered, thought he'd take the morning off. To reenergise." He's not bashful at all and he's being more than a little suggestive. "I've seen the keys around here somewhere, give me a second."

He leaves me at the front door in search of the keys and alone I take in exactly what it is I'm seeing. Thoughts of the two of them are running through my mind, kissing, playful gropes and flashes of their bare sweaty skin. It's all almost too much to handle, but it's that he let John Paul stay afterwards that I find most agonising.

I feel betrayed.

"Here you go." He's back. "Opening isn't for another couple of hours."

"Yeah, I wanted to say sorry for last night. Is he about?"

"Two hours for an apology, huh?" He laughs, and I feel like he's seeing straight through me. "He's in the shower. But don't threat, _I've_ apologised enough for the both of us." And now he's actually smirking. "I'll let _Bren_ know you stopped by."

The door closes in my face before I have time to reply. I turn, absentmindedly float down the stairs, through the high street to walk around the village aimlessly.

John Paul had spent the entire night.

{~}

It's hours before Brendan comes into work. Enough time for the paranoia to ascend, but it's not paranoia because I know for sure now. I don't want to believe it, the very idea of it makes me want to gag. Doesn't stop me from obsessing over it though.

When did it start?

Did Brendan lie to me when he said I was the only one?

Are they still together now? Up in the flat fucking their brains out.

That John Paul must be well experienced, knows exactly what he's doing. Is he better than me?

Does Brendan like him more?

Will he still want me?

I find it difficult to keep the tears from spilling, retreating to the cellar more than once.

When Brendan finally arrives he makes a beeline straight for the office, head down trying to go unnoticed. The evening rush is just about to start, but I abandon my post at the bar. I don't see why I should work so hard for a man that can't even be honest. I've had enough of Brendan Brady and his shit, I deserve better than this.

The office is in complet darkness when I storm in, but with the spotlights from the club filtering in I can just about see him lying down on the sofa. I slam the door behind me and flip the light switch. He lets out a groan as the room fills with harsh artificial lighting.

"Steven, can you turn the light out? Use the desk lamp or something. I've got a banging headache." He croaks, truing to lay in the foetal position with his back to me.

On any other day I'd me buzzing around trying to take care of him. When he's sick or has a hangover Brendan reverts to a child like state, needing someone to nurse him back to full strength. But I'm so pissed off and far away from that headspace right now, there's no chance of me playing nurse.

"You're hungover, because you spent the night getting drunk with John Paul." It's more of an accusation than a question, because I already now the answer.

"Yes. The light. Please!"

I ignore his request again, his comfort is not on the top of my list of priorities. "Were you even going to tell me?"

"Tell ye what?"

I laugh, it's not funny but I have to laugh at that. Is he seriously going to lay there and play dumb? "Is he the reason you sent me home?"

"Is who the what?"

He must really think I'm stupid.

"Don't think I'm stupid right, I know you spent the night with John Paul."

He's sitting up now, realising I'm not turning the light off and he's not getting out of this conversation. "Spent the night with … oh." He stands up, and he's laughing. It's loud and irritating, bellowing throughout the room. "Steven, are you jealous? You're cute when you're jealous."

Now I'm more than just irritated, I'm livid. I start picking up things from the desk and throwing them at him.

Stress ball.

"You know what?"

Mini stapler.

"It's not even that you're sleeping with someone else."

Files.

"It's that you lied!"

Pens.

He's shielding his head with his hands and hopping about trying to miss the flying objects but he's still laughing. I'll show him funny. I walk over to the drinks trolley in the corner of his office and pick up a black bottle. I bounce it in my palm a couple of times before raising it high up in the air. He's not laughing anymore.

"No, Steven. Don't you dare." He reaches out, but theremuch space between us there's nothing he can do.

"Give me one reason. Go on."

"That's a bottle of Japanese Whiskey, only fifteen thousand made worldwide. I'm waiting for a special occasion to open it."

"That ain't a good enough reason." I threateningly raise the bottle higher. "You let him spend the night in your bed, the entire night Brendan." My voice cracks and the unshed tears I've been holding back begin to roll down my cheek.

Why does John Paul get more of Brendan than I do?

"Nothing happened with John Paul. Nothing has ever gone on between me and him." He empathises.

"No, I don't believe you. He stayed at you place, he was half naked." With every word I go up an octave, my voice uncontrollable.

"He's my mate Steven, he was too drunk to walk home so I let him stay in one of the spare rooms. That is all."

He's looking me straight in the eye, and I suddenly feel like a crazy bunny boiler because I know he's being honest. I put the bottle back feeling stupid and embarrassed.

"Sorry, I'll just get back to work then." My eyes are fixed on the floor trying to escape with whatever scarps of dignity I still have.

He stops me reaching for the door handle and when his hand completely encloses my arm memories of that very first night come flashing back. Just like that night I squeeze my eyes shut, I don't know what to expect. I feel his lips on mine, along with the soft familiar prickles of his moustache. Like the first time he pulls away just as I'm getting into it, our faces inches apart, so close that I'm breathing in his exhales. Brendan wipes a stray tear with his thumb, he's gentle and it's intimate, weirdly more intimate than sex and I think everything might just be okay.

That is until I look into his eyes. It's one of the rare occasions – apart from during sex – where he is totally open his eyes a window to his soul. It's him that looks betrayed now, disappointed too. I've disappointed him.

"You don't need to doubt me, Steven. If I say something, I mean it." His voice low and I feel guilty. "There's no one else and if there were I'd tell you."

"I was being stupid, I let my imagination run a way from me. I'm so sorry."

He doesn't say anything and his expression returns to its unreadable stature. I've messed up and I don't know how to fix. So I go to leave again, but he asks for me to _'wait'_.

I turn around, but he's not meeting my eyes and his fingers are dancing by his side. Brendan licks a finger and brushes his moustache then looks at me for a second before looking away again. I think he's nervous, which only makes me worried, Brendan's always the calm one.

"What, are you having a stroke?" I awkwardly try to joke.

"Steven." He lets out a puff of breath along with little erratic laugh. "Steven, lets have dinner tonight." He blurts it so fast I almost think I've misheard.

I must have misheard, right? I must have.

"What?"

"Dinner. Tonight. You and me."

"Why?"

"Why? What do you mean why? I thought this is what you wanted."

"A date you mean?"

"No, not a date, people like us don't... it's just you and me eating a meal at my place. Not a big deal, you'll cook and I'll do dessert, crème brûlée. Then after you may as well spend the night." He says the last part like it's the most normal thing in the world, but his body language is forcefully casual. This is a major thing for him. It's massive for the both of us.

_Us_. Brendan and Steven. Steven and Brendan.

I smile because this is so obviously, definitely a date and he's just invited me to stay the night at his place. If I'm lucky we'll even watch a movie. A proper date night.

"Okay then."

"Good… good."

{~}

I cook us a couple of stakes and some roasted potatoes with veggies on the side while Brendan focuses on his crème brûlée, honestly I think he just likes playing with the blowtorch. We move around each other, mostly in silence but it's comfortable, nice.

Brendan wolfs down his meal at fast pace and I only realise it's the first time I've cooked for him when he says _'you really are a chief'_. I'm dead nervous because I can't get over how domestic this all is, so I over compensate by talking. I tell him about how excited our Leah is for Christmas now that she finally gets it. Then about all the presents I want to get them and how I'm going to give them all a proper Christmas because I never had that growing up. All I get back in way of conversation is occasional 'mmmms', in appreciation to the food.

This night couldn't be anymore perfect.

I was sceptical but the dessert is really nice, crème brûlée sounds simple but it's one of the hardest things to get right. I'm surprised, but impressed that he's pulled it off, but I ain't telling him that. Brendan's ego definitely doesn't need the boost.

"Dishes and then a movie?" I ask taking the plates to the kitchen.

"Yes dear." He drones, smacking my ass as I walk past.

I wash and Brendan dries.

"Why did you send me home last night?" I ask sheepishly, playing with the soapsuds.

I know he's reassured me and we've moved past the John Paul thing, but I can't help myself. Sometimes you just need to know something or it will eat away at you. If things really are changing we should bury all that other crap.

"You started a fight in the middle of your shift."

"I didn't start it!" I grumble, exasperated. That's not even the point. "You didn't send John Paul home."

"John Paul isn't my best barman, I expect more from you."

"Right." I can understand that, I even think there was a compliment hidden in there.

"Steven you've pretty much been working every possible hour for the last three months. You had booked last night off, I though you'd appreciate paid time off to spend with you kids."

"Yeah, Leah was were well excited that I was back early for bath time. Thanks."

"You're welcome. What's with you and John Paul anyway?"

Where to start? The fact that he got me sent down or that he's obviously after my kind-of-but-not-really-boyfriend? I decide to avoid the subject of my suspicions. "I have a criminal record."

"Yeah."

"Yeah? You know... you've been looking into me?" I speculate, oddly flattered.

"I do background checks on all my employees. What's that got to do with John Paul?"

"I stole a car and took Amy, Josh and Michaela on a joyride but I crashed. I ran away, I were scared and panicked right. I'm not proud of it." I feel like scum telling him about this time in my life, what must he think of me? "There was an investigation, but because I ran away before the police got there they didn't know who the driver was. John Paul gave them my name."

"Right."

At first I can't tell what he's thinking, but then I see it. He doesn't get it. "You're taking his side?"

"I'm not taking sides, I just get why he did it. Michaela, his sister was in the car right? With no one coming forward as the driver she would have been a suspect and from his point of view you were driving, so you put his sister in danger. I have a little sister, would do anything to protect her, even grass."

I look in his eyes because whenever he talks about his sister they're so open and honest, and his voice is soft. There is so much love there and I can't get enough of this side of him. "The way you talk about your sister, I always wished I had brother or a sister. Or even parents that cared, a proper family."

"You have a family, with Amy and the kids. All that Christmas talk, you are a good father, that is a proper family."

The biggest grin takes over my face, I'm sure he can count all of the teeth in my mouth but I can't help it. When Brendan looks at me like this, beyond lust and horniness, like I'm actually worth something, like he has faith in me I feel invincible.

The last of the dishes is stored away and he hands me the tea towel to dry my hands.

"Steven?" He drawls.

When Brendan says my name like that I know exactly what he wants, unfortunately for him I have set plans for our first quiet night in.

"So that movie, you wanna put in a DVD or see what's on the telly?" I sing trying to cover up the effect he's already having on me. He's voice is silky smooth but raw and deep all at once and I still can't get over he's sexy accent.

Brendan stops me before I can reach the lounge area, he's chest pressed firmly against my back while his hands grip my waist. He nuzzles against my neck, and I can't stop myself letting out sigh as his parted teeth and wet tongue make their way up my neck.

"Steven, you have me all to yourself till morning, you really want to waste time in front of the TV?" He purrs in between nibbling on my ear lobe.

It goes straight to my cock and for the life of me I can't remember why I had suggested putting on a movie. I've lost all resolve for a night cuddling on the sofa.

And Brendan knows it.

He spins me round, his lips immediately finding mine. It's feather light at first, our lips barely grazing. I open my mouth slightly, taking his lower lip in between mine. I lightly sweep the tip of my tongue over his lip in one smooth, swift motion. Our movements are slow like we have all the time in the world – and I guess for once we do.

Then there is an unrestrained build in tension and the kiss speeds up, anticipation and excitement take over and I full on dive my tongue straight into the depths of his mouth. My tongue dancing over the nerve endings of all of his sweets spots to extract small groans of pleasure. We're in sync and to me it is plain to see that we were meant to lock lips.

Just as I begin to increase the pressure, kissing him harder Brendan pulls away for a breath. Our foreheads are pressed together and I can see a small smile on his face, probably basking in the fact that he got me to change my mind with such ease.

"Take off your clothes."

I hurriedly strip myself of my black Chez Chez t-shirt, throwing it across the room. I reach down to my jeans, my fingers stumbling over the button in my haste.

"Uh-uh. Slowly, give me a show." He commands as he flips a dining table chair so he can sit facing me.

In situations like this I still feel self-conscious, my skinny frame completely bare, bones stick out in awkward place while Brendan has no inclination to remove he's own clothes anytime soon. But when I look at him, the desire and want in his eyes I know for whatever reason he wants my body. In fact he can't get enough of it.

I have a renewed sureness in myself, slowly undoing the button on my jeans. I run my fingers down my crotch and then apply just the right amount of pressure as I cup myself. I pull down the zipper so I can rub against the material of my boxers and close my eyes as my dick begins to respond. I slid the material down around my ankles and step out of them. I'm about to take of my brightly patterned, snug fitting boxers but Brendan tells me to _'stop'_.

"Come over here." He requests, two fingers curling back and forth drawing me in closer.

I step into the space between his legs waiting for the next move.

"You have a beautiful body, Steven."

He takes me by the waist and pulls me into him, his hand gradually make their way down my body. He settles on my bum, caressing the flesh there while tasting the skin of my torso.

"Truly exquisite." He breathes against my side.

Lost for words I run my hands through his dark hair, I still find it hard to believe this gorgeous man, with his rippling muscles and charming smile wants me. Tonight means a lot to me because I know Brendan is giving me as much of himself as he can. I know it's only little and that for other couples staying over at the other person's house is completely normal, but for Brendan it's a big step. To me it's everything and I want to give back to him, make sure he knows I appreciate it.

I reach down do undo his belt but he stops me.

"No, I don't want you to do anything."

He helps me out of my boxers and sits me on the chair. This is one aspect of being with Brendan that I'm still not used to. Throughout my life I've been active, all day long I expend in some way. As a child I basically had to raise my self, when I got with Amy and had the kids I made sure we had a place to live and food on the table, I have the habit of taking over must conversations and with all the girls I've ever been with I definitely led proceedings. In all aspects of my life it's a rare occasion that I just take in or sit back, letting someone else do the work.

Brendan likes to take control and it makes him a very generous lover.

He gets down on his knees between my thighs, manoeuvring me and pinning my arms by my side. Then he began to worship at my body, pulling and sucking and biting all over, like I was the last piece of food on earth and his survival depended on it.

I guide he's head to cover my nipple, but he bats my hand away because when he says do nothing he means it. As enjoyable as it is, I find it hard to totally submit, being completely open, effortlessly receiving pleasure. In the end he gives me what I want, pressing his face into my chest. I jump at the feeling of Brendan's teeth digging into my firm yet tender nipple. He pulls at it, elongating and dragging my skin with it.

"Stop, oh please stop."

This has become a kind of challenge, the lines of pleasure and pain becoming blurred, seeing how long I can last before it becomes too much. Brendan licks and sucks on the raw nipple, soothing the pain away.

He works his way down my body and starts to lick my shaft, slowly running his tongue along the ridge of my foreskin. When he finally engulfed my entire cock I closed my eyes to savour the feeling. I feel the head brush against the back of his throat as he swallows me down whole. Instincts has me wanting to run my fingers along his head and push him or at least rock my hips up, but I know if I make a move now against his orders he'll hold off on letting me come.

So I let him work at his own pace, but nobody gives head like Brendan and it's not long before the all too familiar tension starts to accumulate. My soft whimpers and moans are an indication that I'm close and he takes my balls in his palm, rolling and kneading them. My hips buckle up as I shoot my load down him and he consumes every inch of me and every last drop of my juice.

"To the bedroom." Brendan roars as he easily lifts me up and flings me over his shoulder, taking hold of my arse cheek.

Brendan throws me down onto his bed, looking down at me with dangerous and seductive eyes and I know we have a long night a head of us.

{-}

After our final orgasms of the night rip through our bodies we both fall back onto the bed, panting trying to recover from the hours of exertion. I'm gleefully laughing as the sense of euphoria washes through me. There wasn't a whip or handcuff in sight but I would have called him master. Not because he owns me or because I feel like I'm less than him, but because he knows things about my body that I don't.

Brendan stretches out his arm for me to lie against, as I take my place next to him I hesitantly take hold of his hand by my head. He doesn't react to the contact so I interlock our fingers, this is another step forward.

"It's all right init?"

He lets out a little grunt in response, obviously ready for sleep.

"When it's just you and me." I say looking over at him.

He lets out a little laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm just saying."

"You know what Steven? You talk too much and something needs to shut you up."

"What?"

He pulls me up to him for a kiss and then covers my lip with a single finger. Before I know it he's eyes are closed and his breath is heavy with sleep. I curl over, nuzzling my face in his chest and my arm stretched across his body. I could get used to this.

Things are definitely looking up for us.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: another Brady


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected arrival

I wake up disorientated, the walls are a different colour, there aren't any bedsprings digging into my side and there's a body pressing against my back radiating warmth, knees tucked into mine, an arm flung over my middle.

It doesn't take me long to remember I'm at Brendan's. They're his grey walls, I'm sleeping in his comfortable bed and it's him spooning me in his sleep. I smile, almost bursting at the seams with joy.

I slowly slide out of his grasp, careful not to wake him and then turn so we're face to face. A sleeping Brendan Brady is a beautiful Brendan Brady.

He looks at peace. Which is odd because I never thought of him as not being at peace, but now that I think about it there's definitely something behind his eyes. Like he's constantly having an internal battle with himself, two different versions of Brendan in a game of tug-of-war.

I guess it's because he's not okay with being gay, so much so that I avoid using the word around him. I learnt early on that I wasn't to be affectionate or get too close in public, he'd get cold and shut off. Becoming the other version of himself. I know he's religious so that must be part of it, but I also get the feeling he worries about how he'll be perceived. Believes that people will think him less of a man. Which is silly because when we're together I feel safe and cared for and when we're alone behind closed doors I feel alive.

Yeah some people will have a problem with it, but most people, the people that matter will accept us. I long for the day when we can tell people that we're together, that it's me he wants. We'll go out to the cinema, then for dinner at a restaurant and after for a walk in a park together. He'll meet my kids and have a cup of tea or two with Amy, and she'll love him because he's kind and charming and sometimes he's funny. I'll meet his sister and his son and find out what he was like growing up.

I don't know how long it will take for him to accept himself, to accept what we are to each other or if he ever will. But I can wait, I'd wait a eternity for him.

It's still early, the sun hasn't risen yet, the sky is a deep blue. I turn back into him, falling asleep in his warm embrace.

{~}

A few hours have passed because it's bright out now, the birds are chirping and I feel l well rested. I shift in the bed, stretching out, the space where Brendan's body had lay is cold, he must have gotten out a bed a while ago. I call out but get no answer, I wrap a sheet around my waist and search the flat. It's empty. His wallet and phone are still on his bedside table so he can't have gone far, probably to the off licence.

I make myself a cup of coffee and snuggle up on his sofa in nothing but the sheet.

Brendan walks in just as I drain the last drops of my second cup. He's in his running gear, all sweaty and out of breathe.

"You look surprised to see me." He comments as he walks over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

In all honesty I am, an empty flat, two cups of coffee and over 20 minutes leaves a lot of time to think. From what I can gather Brendan is accustomed to a string of one night stands, but always wakes up alone. He doesn't believe in love, not between two men anyway, nothing last longer than a night and no one gets close. So as I watched the front door, waiting for him to walk through it there was a small part of me that though maybe he wasn't coming back. That I'd outstayed my welcome or he'd changed his mind, staying away until I got the message and left.

I'm glad he's across the flat, at the kitchen sink, where he can't see my face when I lie and say, "I'm juts cold."

"I'll turn on the heating."

I watch him fiddle with the thermostat, his hair is all dishevelled from sleep, along with other things and he's pulling off a whole different kind of sexy in those joggers. I drop the sheet, walk over and wrap my arms around him.

"Or you could warm me up."

Brendan pulls out the neckline of his t-shirt and sniffs himself, his nose twitching in discomfort. "I should go shower."

"No I like it."

I take hold of the hem of his t-shirt, dragging my hands up his warm sweaty waist. I pull the t-shirt over his head because the material is just in the way. Placing my palm over his chest I can feel his heart, still ponding fast and heavy from the run. I look into he's eyes, mesmerised by the strength of it. When our mouths lock together the kiss is sensual and drawn out.

I get caught up in the moment and don't even notice when Brendan slides us down the wall until he's sat with his back against it and he's knees bent. I'm kneeling in the space between his legs, slightly towering over him. He's resting his head back and his eyes are closed, I guess he's worn out from the run. But that's okay because in all honesty I'd be satisfied with kissing his wrists. So that's what I do, I take his hand in mine and pull it up to my lips. I lightly press against his fluttering pulse and make my way along his arm, along his collarbone and leave a wet tail up the length of neck.

I lean down to capture his lips and we just kiss for what seems like hours, my hands wrapped around his neck and his fingers grip my hips. I'm drunk with need, groaning into his mouth and rubbing into his crotch with the front of my thigh. I've never had Brendan like this, slow and lazy with his actions, letting me lead because he's still too tired. But there's a reassuring bulge in his trackies, confirming that he's enjoying himself and maybe not so tired after all.

"Late go upstairs."

I hold out my hand for him to take and then lead him to the bathroom. I plug the drain and turn on the taps to draw a hot bath and then begin to undress him. I rid him of his remaining clothes unhurriedly, taking the time to enjoying his body, kissing and stroking as I go. When the tub is full Brendan steps in, sighing and closing his eyes as he settles in.

"Oi, don't you get too relaxed." I tell him. "Stand up."

He opens one eye and looks up at me, clearly not getting my drift.

"You said I had you till morning, mornings not over and I ain't done with you."

He grunts and lifts himself up, acting put out but I can see the smile he's trying to hide. I take one of the condoms that he now stores on the shelf next to the shampoo, Brendan dashing to the bedroom every time we got down and dirty in the shower was becoming ridiculous. I roll it on him and then tell him to sit. I climb in so we're face to face and then take his shaft in my firm palm, pumping it slow.

"This time I don't want you to do anything, relax." I instruct.

He just nods as our lips meet, and when my tongue invades his mouth to create a mixture of my coffee and his minty toothpaste he leans back, just going with it. With him worked up enough I switch my position so I have my back to him and slowly lower myself down onto his erect cock. I'm still loose from last night and so he comfortably goes in with one fluid swoop down and we both groan from the contact.

I hold on to both side of the tub for leverage and it take me a few tries to get the right angle, but when I finally feel the brush against my prostate I wither, whimpering from the sensation. I grind down to the root, gyrating back and forth, letting my muscles do most of the work, contracting and relaxing around his dick.

My moans are bouncing off the tiles and Brendan is muttering profanities and every so often my name leaves his lips. He leans forward, kissing and sucking the side of my neck.

"Mmmmm...that feels good." I tell him.

"You have a body good enough to eat, so smooth, firm, it's perfect. So gorgeous it could kill a man.

"Lucky you, lucky to have me."

I chance a glance back at him, and he looks like he's considering my words. Then he seems to accept it or agree, nodding to himself. That puts a smile on my face.

We're lucky to have found each other.

I increase my pace, sliding up and down desperate for release. Brendan tells me he's going to come, he repositions us so we're both on our knees. I have my arms stretched out straight in front of me, either side of the tap and he's holding onto my hips. I can feel his uneven breaths on my neck, his long strokes hitting deeper in side me. When he does come one hand slams into the tiles in front of us and his whole body buckles. Brendan lays flat across my back, kissing the spot on my neck where I know he'll have left a red blemish and the last of his after shock spasms through him.

He doesn't pull out, instead wraps his hand around my cock and stroke up and down to release the ache between my legs. He starts gentle and I push my hips up to meet each one of his strokes. My orgasm approaches and my stomach muscles tighten so I awkwardly turn to meet his lips because I want him to kiss me when I come. Our lips merged together and our tongues intertwine. My orgasm is an incredible explosion of pleasure and a large spurt of warm come shoots out and into the pool of water below us.

Afterwards, we lather each other clean with spearmint scented shower gel, two in one shampoo-conditioner and Brendan's tea-tree face wash. I brush my teeth with a spare toothbrush while Brendan gets ready for work in his room across the corridor.

When I walk in he's already dressed and is standing at his chest of drawers, applying gel to his hair. He hasn't noticed me so I stay by the door and watch him spike his hair – the amount of time it's taking and the precise placement of each strand of hair, it's like he's sculpting a masterpiece. He straps on his watch, spays on aftershave and then just stares at himself in the mirror.

This isn't the first time I've seen him do this, at first I thought it was just a vanity thing, but it's not. It's like he's staring him self down, or psyching himself up for something. Whatever it is, the peaceful expression he wore whilst asleep is long gone.

A conscious Brendan Brady is a troubled Brendan Brady.

I walk up behind him, snake my arms around his waist, tip toe and prop my chin on his shoulder. For a second he looks startled, as if he's forgotten that he's not alone, whatever he sees staring back at him in the mirror is consuming all he thoughts.

"When you look into the mirror for ages like that, what are you thinking?" I ask his reflection.

"Nothing at all."

He shrugs out of my hold, avoiding eye contact and I can tell he's being dishonest, hiding something. I drop it, Brendan has his secretes and I'm fine with that.

"Okay."

"You going to get dressed?"

"Do I have to? Why don't we go back to bed?"

"Hmmm, I can't believe I'm saying this but I need to get to work. I was only there for ten minutes last night, we've got a delivery and we're still under staffed."

"I'll make us breakfast and then come in with you." Back to reality then, it was nice while it lasted. "Where are my clothes?"

"On the living room floor."

We head down stairs, the atmosphere is noticeable different. I push on, get dressed and chat away while making bacon sarnies like I haven't noticed Brendan's mood. I think he appreciates it because half way through breakfast whatever was bothering him upstairs is no longer an issue. By the time we're ready to head out I'm looking forward to a morning at work just the two of us. Judging by the smile on his face and the squeezing of my bum so is Brendan.

When I get the door open I'm confronted with a tall, busty blonde with perfectly curled ringlets. She's wearing a dress both too bright and too short for this time of year, a purple faux fur coat and towering heels.

"Cheryl?" Brendan yelps from behind me.

That smile of his face has vanished, again.

{~} {~} {~} {~} {~}

Steven asks what I'm thinking, and it's more what I'm not thinking. The things I don't let myself dwell on, that I haven't really dealt with. But now they're coming to the surface and it's too much to handle and I'm being crushed under the weight of it all.

He must sense it on me, his face drops, all the joy and easiness is gone. It's only for a few seconds though, then he puts and his happy face on and makes us breakfast like nothing has changed. I guess he knows what I'm like, that I wouldn't want to talk or be pushed, so he just lets it go. He rambles as he fries the bacon, and rambles some more while we eat, it's calming. Weirdly so. The tension and sorrow leaves my bones, I feel lighter than I have in months, a year almost and it's just one more thing that I like about this boy. When he's around it all just float away.

Now I'm itching to get him over to the club, there's no one else working and it shouldn't be too busy. After I get the deliveries sorted we can carry on where we left of in the tub. He's by the door already, tying his laces and as he gets up I have to take time out to appreciate how good his arse looks in his work jeans. Then I have to touch it, because it's so god damn perfect, like it's teasing me.

I'm bundling him out of the front door, the sooner we get this order sorted the sooner I can get my hands on him. But he stops, stops moving, stops laughing and just looks back at me.

Cheryl's standing at my front door.

"Cheryl?"

"Brendan!" She squeals, push past Steven to embrace me in hug that's a little too tight.

"Sis, what are you doing here?" I probe while prying her arms from around my neck.

"I came to visit my big brother, it's been too long Bren."

There are three large suit cases sitting at my doorstep, way too many for a visit, even for Cheryl. "What's with all the bags?"

"I felt like a change, a new adventure. Plus I had to make sure you were looking after yourself." There it is, the change in voice, laced with pity and eyes creased with concern. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." I tell her, my voice increasing by an octave or two. I smile, and rub her arms to reassure her.

"Are you sure, love? Because after-"

"Chez this is Steven. Steven, my sister Cheryl." I cut her off before she can go any further because I'm very aware that Steven is listening to our conversation. "Steven is a barman at the club, I'm running late for a delivery so he came to get me." I drop in an excuse for why an employee is in my home so early in the morning. "Steven, why don't you take the keys and open up while I get Cheryl settled in, yeah?"

"Nonsense. I can settle in anytime, right now I want to see this club you've named after me."

This is not what I want to do at all. The idea of the guy I'm fucking and my sister continuing to be in close proximity doesn't sit well with me. But I can't think of a reason why we shouldn't all go to the club and if Cheryl's going to be living in the village they're going to run into each other. Might as well be there to keep an eye on them.

"Lets go then."

{~}

Cheryl has a nosey around while Steven and I bring in the crates and restock the bar. Steven's sunny disposition is ebbing away, I have a feeling this is response to the fact that I'm blatantly standoffish and distant. Even when he smiles and laughs I can see the hurt behind his eyes, but I can't be what he wants, especially not around my sister.

Opening time has come and gone, Cheryl and I are sat at the end of the bar catching up. She tells me about what's changed back home and it's strange because you forget that life goes on, people keep on living after you've gone. I give her a very edited version of my time in Liverpool and how it is living in the village and running the club.

"What do you plan to do over here?" I ask.

I love my little sister but she tends to make big decisions like this without really thinking them through.

"I was hoping that my lovely big brother would give me a job at his successful new nightclub?"

"Chez, I dunno."

I do know. I know I want to keep my life here, with Steven and Danny's drugs as far away from my baby sister as possible.

"We are looking for an extra pair of hands with Rhys gone." Steven chimes in.

_Fuck._

"Please Bren. The two of us working together, it will be like working at da's pub when we were younger. We'll have so much fun."

Those days were anything but fun for me, but Cheryl saw what he wanted her to see. She had a completely different childhood than I did and I've always made sure to retain those memories for her, true or not.

"I don't know about that, but fine you can have the job."

More squealing and hugs.

Having Cheryl around might not be too bad.

Ring Ring. Ring Ring.

"It's Anne, I'm going to take this in the office. Steven will show you the ropes."

It's the same old with Anne, I haven't been paying her enough attention recently and she wants to go out tonight.

I'm being stretched in too many directions.

I don't go back out, I need a few moments to myself.

{~}

After a while Cheryl joins me on the office sofa and I can tell that whatever she wants to talk about will be heavy.

"Ste's a nice guy."

She's starting off with small talk and that's fine with me.

"He's good at his job."

"Only had good things to say about you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, apparently you're a top boss, dead nice and caring."

Silence.

I don't know what to say to that, his words do something to my gut. Something I haven't experienced before and so I can't describe.

"He told me about your girlfriend, Mitzeee. There was an article about her in the magazine I read on the cab ride over. Wannabe WAG and glamour model." She says in a disapproving tone.

"There's more to her than that, anyway it's nothing serious."

"I know you're like any other red blooded male, but is she really worth staying away from your family and your life in Ireland?"

"You know there's more to why I left than that."

"No, actually I don't, because you didn't even have the decency to tell me you were going. I went over to the house with a casserole and it was Eileen that told me your marriage was over and then a week later you send a vague text saying you were in England."

"You know what we were going through."

"I don't understand Bren. It had been weeks since..." She sighs. "You and Eileen were getting through it, together as a couple. Things were getting back to normal."

"I don't think things can ever be normal after devastation like that. It will either bring you closer together or tear you apart. A relationships can be dead but look live to the outside world."

"Deccy misses you."

"I miss him too, more than I can put into words." I lean forward and cover my face. With no one from my old life around it was easy to pretend, easier to get on with it. Now all I can think of is my son, growing up without me, all the things I'm going to miss because I ran away. I still don't know if I did the right thing for him, but a father that sleeps around with other men when his family needs him is no father at all. "I couldn't stay there."

"Maybe you didn't give it enough time-"

"I never loved Eileen the way a husband is supposed to love his wife." That's the most honest I've ever been, without coming right out with it. "We got married too young and for all the wrong reasons. I got her pregnant and like a good little Catholic boy I married her. I wanted to do right by her and by the baby, but a loveless marriage isn't good for anyone."

"Oh Bren love, come here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Miteee's revelation


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheryl tries to get deep with Brendan while Mitzeee is very frank with him.

I've found that most people just want to feel like they're doing something to help, so it's easier to just let Cheryl hold me for a while. After a while I realise she's cry, tears soaking through my shirt onto my shoulder. I hold her through it, rubbing her back and saying _'it will get easier'_. Over and over, like a mantra, because it has to get easier.

"We should get back to work." I suggest, after she pulls herself back together.

I'm starting to feel uncomfortable.

She pulls away, sniffing and wiping away the mixture of tears and mascara running down her cheeks.

"Surely a perk of being the boss is being able to skive off when you're having a rough day."

"Chez I'm fine, really. You know I don't like to wallow in selfpity, it won't help in any way. It's been what? Almost a year -"

"Exactly a year, a week from Wednesday."

I know exactly how long it has been.

"So that's the real reason for your impromptu relocation to England? Thought you'd come over here and babysit me?" I know my voice is too high and maybe I shouldn't be towering over her in such an intimidating manner but I'm tired of this shit.

"Don't you dare get snarky with me, Brendan Seamus Brady." She's standing too, because Cheryl doesn't get intimidated or back down. "You can't blame me for thinking there might be something wrong and wanting to be here for you. I can tell there's something not right Bren, you left your wife and child two months after she-"

"Cheryl!" I shout, almost bordering on hysterical. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I had the same thing with Eileen, she'd never stop going on and on about her. Why? It doesn't change what happened."

"Okay. I'll leave it, but Brendan phone home. Please, pet. You and Eileen, you need each other, whatever's gone on it doesn't matter."

After what she witnessed between me and Macca there's no going back, and it sure as hell matters to Eileen. But I can't exactly explain to Cheryl about how I had to leave my home because my wife found me in a 'clench' with her little cousin. In all honestly I'm surprised Eileen hasn't told everyone we know out of spite.

I sigh and rub my face, trying to buff out the frustration. "Drinks aren't going to serve themselves."

I head out to the bar without another word, drained.

{~}

Cheryl drops the Eileen matter and gets to work, unsurprisingly fitting in well and with ease. She's a natural behind the bar, the punters love her blubbery personality and she gets on well with Steven and the other staff. I'm not too sure about that, my sister talking and having a laugh with the guy I'm fucking. This could blow up in my face.

I stay behind the bar to help serve, even though we're not particularly busy yet. I have to stay close and act as a buffer, incase the conversation edges onto more dangerous territory. I needn't have worried though, they don't discuss anything too personal or heavy. They are quite similar, my sister and Steven, together both their more juvenile and excitable sides come out. I end up doing most of the work as they giggle in the corner like a couple of schoolgirls.

"Hello, my name is Doug Carter." A skinny American lad, with bush eyebrows sticks out his hand for me to shake. I decline. "Anyway, I saw the staff wanted sign on the door, I'm here to apply for the barman job."

"The position has been filled." I point to Cheryl.

"By a barmaid." She calls, all sass and playful attitude.

"Oh, okay." His previous chirpy demeanor vanishes at this news, his eyes cloud over, brow furrows, and lips collapse downwards. "Well, you must have something, I'm willing to do anything, clean, hand out pamphlets?" He asks desperately.

"Sorry kid, ain't looking for anyone."

He turns to leave, shrinking a few inches as shoulders slump. He looks hopeless. Desperate.

"Hey yank." I call after him. "I may just have something for you. Follow me."

I've just had a light bulb moment.

I walk into the office feeling relived. I'm in need of someone to pedal Danny's drugs and this poor sap may just be desperate enough to do it. It's perfect, no one will ever suspect a weedy American student with a penchant for his granddad's hand-me-down cardigans as a drug dealer.

"Take a seat."

He looks apprehensive, but I can tell he wants whatever this job is so he does as he is told.

I open the safe, where I've kept the package Danny's guy delivered earlier in the day. Then take the seat on the other side of the desk, facing Douglas and put the brick of cocaine and baggies full of ecstasy on the table between us.

"What's that?" He points, stumbling over his words.

"What does it look like?"

"I know what it is… but-"

"You said you were looking for work, willing to do anything."

"Yes I did, but I was hoping for something more… legal."

"What are you kid, like 18?"

"19." He corrects.

"19 years old, moved here all the way from the US-of-A. Brave kid. Being an international student it must get expensive, then there's the over priced student housing, books, bills, food." I count off the list of expenses on my fingers. "I can't imagine how much debt you're in already."

"I have savings, but they're running low."

"Well this must be fate." I proclaim, over enthusiastically. "I need some one to sell my product and you need a job."

"I'm not sure."

"Sure you are." I counter, not really giving him a choice.

"But what if I get caught, I can't afford to get arrested."

"Douglas, you look more like a mild mannered accountant than a dealer. I assure you the cops won't ever suspect you."

"But drugs?" His oversized eyebrows form a knot as tension tightens his facial muscles. "I don't know, I don't want to be one of those scumbags forcing pills onto kids."

"First thing first, you won't be skulking around school gates getting little kids addicted to this shit." I don't fuck with drugs myself, but the morons that do have made that choice, and I have no sympathy. But people who sell drugs to children need to be shot. Simple. "Secondly you won't be forcing anything on to anyone. No one has ever been sold drugs if they weren't already looking to get high. Drugs sell themselves."

He's having an internal battle.

"Kid, there's a lot of money to be made."

He is still swaying between his morals and his dwindling bank balance. But I can tell that I've got him, hook-line-and-sinker. He just needs a little push, to be persuaded. Luckily I'm the master of manipulation.

"The drug industry is just like any other business. The consumers demand a product and we meet that demand, at a very profitable price of course. Easy money."

He takes and big breath in and then exhales. "Okay." He nods, with more confidence than he's displayed through out entire encounter. "I'm in."

I smirk to myself. At least Danny will be off my back and Steven off his radar.

I explain what I expect from the kid as my employee, give him the intimidating, unpredictable thug routine, getting a little rough and handsy. It's important to set our roles from the get-go. I own him now. We talk prices and volume that should be sold, target clientele and territory. Armed him with the merchandise and a stack off flyers as a cover job – he'll need a reason from constantly coming to the club – I send him on his way.

{-}

The evening rush is just around the corner when Amy, Steven's live in ex and the mother of his children walks in.

"Ste you dirty stop out." She jokes, settling down on a barstool.

"Hiya Amy." Ste's plasters a wide welcoming smile on face and puts on his normal buoyant persona, but the quick side glance he shoots in my direction tells me he's uneasy.

This isn't good.

He turns he's back to her, busying himself with preparing the drink she didn't order.

"So who is she then?"

_She._

"Who is who?" He turns around, looking at her with raised eyebrows and confusion in his eyes.

"The girl that kept you from coming home last night?" Amy's voice is light and playful, obviously not picking up his reluctance to talk.

Steven is a terrible liar and very transparent. It has occurred to me before now that if anybody questions the nature of our relationship one look at his face will give us away. So right now I'm surprised by how quickly he has composed himself after his initial panic.

"I stayed at a friends." He explains calmly as he serves the next customer.

"A friend." Amy echoes slowly, obviously skeptical. "Are you really going to deny that you've been seeing someone? Ste, you've had a huge grin on your face for weeks now, disappearing in the early hours of the morning and most nights you don't get back till hours after the club closes."

"I really don't know what you're talking about, Ames. I need to get back to work."

"Okay, okay." She takes a long sip of her drink, eyeing him up and down. "So what about that love bite on your neck."

Ste stops what he is doing and swats the mark on his neck with such force that it must sting. He's burning bright red with embarrassment, the colour creeping up from his neck.

"I thought so." She nods and stands up from her place at the bar, victorious. "You'll be home for dinner? I'm sure you can spend one night away from this mystery woman." Amy's smug and doesn't wait for an answer. "We can talk then."

_Crap._

"Steven, I need to speak to you in the office." I announce as soon as Amy is out of sight. "Now."

I walk into the office at a fast past and can hear Steven shuffling slowly behind me. It takes a few seconds for him to join me and in that sort time I work myself up into a state. Pacing agitated, just unable to stay still.

He closes the door behind him and looks me square in the eye.

"I know." He tells me. "You don't have to say owt, I'll sort it."

{-}

It's hard to believe that the day had started off so well. Waking up next to Steven's warm body, reaching immeasurable pleasure together in the bathtub and the simple things like him cooking my breakfast. Then Cheryl turned up as one big curly haired, Irish, cock-block and now Amy Barnes is going to be asking questions Steven can't answer.

Nana Flo would say the rapid decline of this day is an omen for things to come.

Steven is only scheduled to work half a day, he gives me a tight smile before leaving at 7pm to face Amy's inquisition. I scold myself for leaving visible marks of our time together.

Cheryl snaps me out of the deep marine of thought by leaning her head on my shoulder and wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Home time? I'll cook us dinner." She sighs, tiredly rubbing her eyes.

I look down at my sister's heavy blood shot eye and see she's exhausted, she spent the night on a ferry traveling the Irish Sea, battling seasickness and then spent the day working her butt off.

"How about we get a couple of bottles of red, order a takeaway and spend the night watching that nauseating reality TV show you like?"

"Really Bren?" She looks up at me eyes visible wet and a soppy smile and her face.

I can't help but roll my eyes at the overemotional reaction to a night in has gained.

"Don't start with all that. It's just a curry and wholesale priced wine from the cellar."

"It's more than that. You're always looking after me, even when it's you that's going through so much."

"We both went through that."

She pulls me into one of her vice like hugs, and I return it grateful to have my sister with me.

Suddenly I'm being pulled over the bar, tiny but strong hands cling on to the back of my head and lips pressed against mine, an aggressive tongue invading my mouth.

I finally managed to pull away. "Mitzeee?" I exclaim shocked, wiping my lips.

She ignores me, eyes set on Cheryl. "That's Mitzeee with three e's. Brendan's _girlfriend_."

"Oh, so you're the local Z-lister and wannabe WAG."

"I'm sorry, did they not have that dress in your size or?." She retorts.

"Oi, I'm gonna pop those blow up boobs of yours."

Cheryl jumps up onto the bar, ready to go for Mitzeee but I manage to pull her back down by her waist.

"I'm 100% natural. Don't lay your insecurities on me, love."

"My insecurities?" Cheryl scoffs. "This from the glamour model that would lick flies off a dead horse for a double page spread."

"Brendan what are you doing with this heifer anyway?"

Cheryl screams, whilst struggling to get out of my hold. "I'll show you heifer-"

"Mitz, this is Cheryl, My sister." I explain before this can go any further.

She looks stunned and the relieved. "Oh, right. I saw you hugging and assumes… well this is embarrassing." She smiled brightly, showing no shame at all.

Assumed what? She thought that I went and gotten myself a fake mistress as well as a beard girlfriend.

"Well when you assume you make and ass out of you and well you again." Cheryl snides, not impressed by the non-apology. "We should get going." She doesn't turn to me, instead my sister is smiling down at Mitz like she's got something over her. "Brady night in."

"Right, Anne we're getting off." She looks disgruntled. "Stay here, have a drink on me, I'll see you tomorrow." I lean over the bar to place a soft peck on her cheek.

"Hold on mister, we have plans."

_Right. Fuck._

"Dinner?"

"You are not being serious." She rages. "You've been God-knows-where the last few days, no weeks and now you're standing me up?"

"Don't kick off. My sister's just arrived, we want to spend some time together. I will see you tomorrow."

"Why don't we all got out together? I'd love to get to know the new lady in your life." Cheryl suggests in a voice that is way too welcoming.

"I don't know-" I begin to protest, not trusting her sudden interest in Mitzeee.

"That sounds like a great idea."

Both women are smiling at each other now, sweet as pie and I can't help but think I've missed something.

"Give me an hour to get ready." Mitzee says while checking her reflection over and fluffing her hair in the mirror behind the bar.

"Get ready?" Both Cheryl and I repeat simultaneously.

I look down at Mitzeee, just like any other day she is dressed in an expensive skintight dress, fur coat, sky high stilettos, hair big and buoyant as ever and a few layers of meticulously applied make up.

"Yeah just freshen up a bit. Put of something more glamorous."

"We're only going over to Il Gnosh." I tell her.

"No, that's fine." Cheryl sticks out her hip, pouts her lips and starts fussing with her own hair. "I've got a suitcase full of chic dresses and elegant high end make up, like you would not believe. Not all of us feel the need to get all tarted up to get attention form men."

"Well it does it for Brendan, obviously. He can't get enough of me. You got a fella, Cheryl?"

"Not currently."

"All right ladies that's enough. We'll meet you over there in a about half an hour." I've been constantly eating all day, yet still really hungry for some reason. "Thirty minutes, Anne." I call back as I physically guide Cheryl out of the club.

Forty-five minutes later I'm sat at a table with two over dressed, sniping women.

To lighten the atmosphere while we wait for our meals, I order wine, but this just makes them more catty. I'm relieved when the meals finally arrives, they both loves their food but this just moves conversation onto fast metabolisms, calories and dress sizes.

How is this my life?

"Waiter, whiskey. Please." I rub my temple where the prickles of a headache are starting to form.

It's going to be a long night.

Dinner continues in the same manner, my sister and friend tearing strips out of each other while I try and act as a buffer. For reasons I can't even begin to fathom they insist on spending more time in each other's company by ordering dessert. It's been over and hour and I've had enough, I excuse myself to the toilets before I murder one of them.

I return to find Steven sitting in the spare seat at our table, I take my seat across from him trying to figure out what he's doing here.

"Here to pick up me tea." He explains. "Treat for Amy."

He's smiling so whatever he's told her must have worked.

"That smell, what is it?" Mitzeee asks the lad, leaning over to sniff him.

"Just me shower gel." He replies, subtly shifting away from her.

"It's seems familiar." She looks him over, a strange look in her eye. "Amy, she your girlfriend?"

"No, we used to be together like. She's the mother of me kids and we all live together, but now we're just best mates. It's better that way."

Steven's going on a tangent, I can tell he's going to go off on a nervous ramble.

"I think that's enough with the twenty questions Mitz. Poor lad just came to get his dinner."

"Yeah you don't want to scare off Brendan's best worker." Cheryl chimes in, looking smug as fuck that we're both on the same 'side'.

"You have been a great little worker." Mitzee continues. "Always at the club late."

The way she says it, it's like she swimming through her memory bank, putting pieces of the puzzle together. There have been a lot of close calls, with Mitzeee turning up at the club after hours, uninvited.

"He even does wake up call for this one." Cheryl points in my direction. "Found him at the flat in the wee hours of the morning getting my lazy brother out of bed."

Mitzeee opens her mouth to say something but is cut-off by one of the waitresses.

"Number six."

"That's me." Steven says his quickly goodbyes and leaves.

Saved by the bell.

{~}

Mitzeee is unusually quite after Steven's departure, not even Cheryl's obvious low blows can get a rise out of her. I enjoy the quiet, by the amount of thinking Mitzee is doing it won't be long before she's full of questions. Question about Steven and myself.

We are stood at the bottom of the steps that lead to my flat, about to part ways. This horrendous night finally over with.

"Walk me home." Mitzeee requests.

"Your door is literally three yards away, I think you can make it."

"Brendan Brady I thought you were a gentlemen? Anyway, maybe I want a goodnight kiss without the audience." She indicates over at Cheryl, standing awkwardly to the side.

Now I know something is up.

"Okay, fine."

"I'll see you up there." I hand Cheryl the keys.

I accompany Mitzeee to her front door, takes all of seven seconds. I'm waiting for her to get on with it, the interrogation, say whatever she thinks is going on but she's just staring at the spot we've just left. Cheryl is just staring over at us. For the second time today Mitzeee grabs hold of me, her lips clinging on to mine and then her tongue invading my mouth. Her hands begin to wonder, farther and farther down my body until she's squeezing my bum with both hands.

"Okay, okay that's enough." I say pulling away.

We look over and Cheryl is gone.

"I though that would do it." Mitzeee gloats.

Then she turns her attention back to me. Neither of us saying a word, and I think for the first time in my life it's me who becomes uncomfortable under somebody else's heavy gaze.

"What's with face?" I give in and talk first.

"You really like this one. Love him."

I laugh, brushing it off. But I decide not to insult her intelligence by pretending I don't know who she's talking about. "I don't _love_ him."

"Okay maybe it's not love, but you're heading there and fast. You can't deny he's different from all the others?"

"It's convenient is all."

"So why didn't you tell me? Why turn your latest fuck into a clandestine intelligence operation?"

_Latest fuck._

I refer to him as that all the time, just a warm body to scratch an itch. But hearing someone else say it makes him sound cheap, like my whore. Steven is anything but that.

"I'm sorry were you expecting a girly gossip over chocolates and red wine?" I mock. "Anne, I ain't on the market for a fag-hag."

"You can lie to me all you want. The sad thing is that you're lying to yourself and don't even realise it."

I want to protest but she holds up a palm, telling me to stop.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Gay night at Chez Chez


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ste comes out

I'm beating around the bush, taking the scenic route home, walking as slow as humanly possible and now I'm attempting to sneak into my own flat. I turn the key in the lock and close the door quietly behind me. I know it's pointless, the door squeaks, has done since before we moved in.

Amy looks away from the telly when the noise from the door shrills throughout the flat, she's sat on the sofa drinking a cup of tea. The place is unusually quiet, it's past the kids bed time so I can't even use them as a distraction.

"You're late." She comments, turning off the telly and the holding up a second cup of tea. "It will have gone cold by now, but it will do."

I take my seat next to her, sipping on stale lukewarm tea. There's no getting out of this one.

"I want all the details." She smiles, barely holding in her excitement.

"What?" I still try at playing dumb.

"Well you know all about my miserable love life, lets move onto yours. Dish!"

"Nope, there's nothing to tell."

I can feel my heart racing a bit, hands getting clammy around the mug handle and I know my voice is anything but calm.

"Wow, you must really like her – or – be really, really embarrassed."

"Why?"

"Because everybody loves telling an ex when they've found someone new. Especially when that ex was just so tragically dumped."

I go to say something, my lips parting repeatedly before I can make up a defence. Instead I get up, head for the kitchen to buy time. "Well maybe I'm a changed man, aren't I?" I say with my back to her, pouring the bitter tea down the sink.

Amy follows me through to the kitchen. "Who changed ya?" She asks inquisitively.

"Nobody." I answer quickly.

"Does nobody have a name?"

"Whatever is happening in my life is insignificant compared to what you've been through." I still don't turn to look at her, instead I rinse out the cup and tidy the kitchen counter.

"So there is something happening." I can hear the smile in her voice as she playfully pokes at my waist. "Ste you don't have to walk on eggshells around me, on account of Josh Ashworth stomping all over my heart. You deserve to be happy, I want you to be happy." She says more seriously.

I can't believe how lucky I am to still have Amy as my mate. After everything I put her through she lets me be in her and the kids lives. Even now when she's had a miserable couple of months after Josh breaking it off with her, she's still here for me. A smile spreads across my face, I can't help it. For once we have enough money to live on, I have Amy and the kids and now Brendan.

"Yes, okay! There is sort of something going on." I admit, finally turning to face her.

"That's brilliant." She squeals, clapping like a seal.

"You're getting ahead of yourself now, right."

She is, because I don't even know if it's brilliant. I feel brilliant, more than brilliant but I don't know about Brendan. I understand why we're keeping us a secrete, but I still haven't really worked out if there is an 'us'.

"I'm being serious, I'm really happy for you."

Amy's words hit me smack in the face. All I can say is, ' _Cheers'_ because I'm not sure there is anything to be happy about. This guy that I really like, simply lusts over my body. He is becoming my priority while I'm just one of his options.

"You had dinner yet?" I ask changing the subject.

"Didn't really fancy fish fingers, chips and beans with the kids, especially when I live with a master chef."

"I'm hardly a master chef. Anyway, I'm dead tired, me. Don't feel up to cooking much."

"I'll order a pizza?"

"Nah, Tony's still giving me staff discount. Guilty conscience."

"The least he can do, the way he just dropped you-"

"Well it all turned out for the best." It's the only reason I'm still in Brendan's life. "The usual?" Amy nods. "Be back in a min."

{~}

I still feel awkward walking though Il Gnosh after the way I was so publically and humiliatingly let go. I see the familiar faces of waiters and waitresses, Theresa McQueen behind the bar and the new commis chef through the kitchen hatch. But I walk through with my head high, because I'm in no place to turn down discounted food.

After I've placed my order I wait by the bar, I swivel the bar stool so I'm sat facing the tables. I look around at people I know from the village, couples, families, regular club goers who have come to line their bellies first. To one side I see Mitzeee and Brendan's sister, Cheryl sat playing what seems like an intensely, vicious staring competition.

Cheryl has a face like thunder, while Mitzeee's nose is slightly scrunch like there's a bad smell in the air. Cheryl's eye flick toward my direction, then she does a double take, her face softening when she recognises me.

"Hello love." She bellows across the restaurant.

"Hiya." I reply awkwardly, the volume of my voice wavering because I know how Tony likes to create a "sophisticated ambiance".

She waves me over with an enormous smile on her face. I hesitate mid way though taking a seat when I notice a tumbler of whiskey at the other empty seat. Brendan must be here, I look around but there's no sight of him.

"He's popped to the loo." Cheryl cuts through with an answer to my unspoken question.

"Don't want to be spending time with the boss out side of work?" Mitzeee adds.

"Something like that."

Cheryl laughs, kindly rubbing my hand.

"Don't look so worried, our Bren is a big softy really."

"Like a teddy bear." Mitzeee adds.

Well this is me, poking the bear because he will not be happy to see me sat here.

The expression on my face must still be one of worry, seeing that her words have not soothed me in any way Cheryl tells me anecdotes about their life. I can't help but laugh, she's a wild one and I can't stop the flutter of my heart when she tells me about Brendan getting her out of all sorts of trouble.

Cheryl's mood has totally shifted from what I witnessed, all of earlier hostility to her brother's girlfriend forgotten. I look over at Mitzeee, sexy and done up to the nines and I feel jealous. Because she _is_ his girlfriend, they do the things couples do, she's special to him. And I know it's fake, all for show but the rest of the word doesn't.

I know what everyone else thinks doesn't matter, but I suddenly can't stand her.

Cheryl draws back my attention when she mentions the name ' _Eileen_ ', Brendan once let her name slip then changed the subject immediately. I figured she's his wife, a part of his life that I have never been privy to.

I'm all ears now.

But before I can learn any more information about the life Brendan had lived in Ireland with his wife he's taking his seat. Cheryl turn's to him still giggling, filling him in on the story she's been telling. It's like he doesn't even hear her. He's just staring at me, almost trying to communicate with me through extremely subtle facial ticks.

He's not happy.

I imagine him turning from the soft, kind and cuddly teddy bear – the one that we are some of the only people who have had the honour of experience – to a cold, thoughtless and scary grizzly bear. The Brendan Brady the world knows.

"Here to pick up me tea." I quickly offer up an explanation for my presence. "Treat for Amy."

I smile and receive a small miss-it-if-you-blink, lope sided grin in return.

I've tamed the tiger.

I think I'm mixing metaphors.

"That smell, what is it?"

I look to my side to see Mitzeee leaning into my personal space. I slowly shift away from her, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. That smell is Brendan, well part of him – I'm missing the gum and whiskey. But I used his shower gel and shampoo, and then sprayed by self with his expensive aftershave when his back was turned.

"Just me shower gel." I lie.

I spent the day enjoying the sudden wafts of Brendan Brady I could smell on myself, reveling in it. Now, looking into Mitzeee's unsure eyes I regret it.

_Almost._

"It's seems familiar." She's still scanning me, like she searching my soul. "Amy, she your girlfriend?"

The sudden change in topic is off putting.

"No." But maybe that's the wrong answer, I should make it clear that I've been with women. "We used to be together. She's the mother of me kids and we all live together, but now we're best mates."

"I think that's enough with the twenty questions Mitz." Brendan interrupts. "Poor lad just came in to pick up his dinner."

"Yeah, you don't want to scare off Brendan's best worker." I hear Cheryl say.

"You have been a great little worker." Mitzeee comments, ignoring them both. "Always at the club late."

The observation sends a shiver straight down my back.

She knows.

I chance a look a Brendan, but he won't make eye contact with me.

"He even does wake up call for this one." Cheryl adds. "Found him at the flat in the wee hours of the morning getting my lazy brother out of bed." She says laughing, unaware of the tension or the unhelpful timing of her statement.

I'm thinking of ways to get out of this, I look to Brendan. One look from him will let me know if things will be okay, but he's not taken his eyes off of Mitzeee.

"Number six." Theresa calls out.

I look down at my receipt and for once lady luck is on my side.

"That's me." I inform the table.

I say my goodbyes, grab my bag full of food before basically running out of there.

{~}

When I get back indoors, Amy immediately starts to list the names of girls we know from the village. I should have known she wouldn't drop it so easily, my luck was short lived. Amy Barnes never stops till she gets her own way or has been told the full story.

She's like a woodpecker, peck, peck, pecking away.

"Anita?"

"Anita? No!"

"Rae?" I ignore her so she keeps on guessing. "That Ash, you know works at the club with you? No? Okay, is… is it a McQueen?"

"Yeah, you guessed right in the end."

"Which one? Which one?" She cries, over joyed.

"I've been getting it on with Myra, an't I."

"Congratulation's, when's the weeding?" She drones sarcastically.

"Can you just leave it now please?"

But of course she ignores me. "What about that blond that was at the club today?"

"Cheryl? No, she's Brendan's sister, only just moved to the village." Amy lets out a disappointed sigh. "You probably don't know them anyway." I tell her, purposely not using a pronoun.

"Maybe I should just ask around or just start following ya."

"Amy. I'll get a restraining order." I joke, trying to cover up my nerves.

I wouldn't put it past her to follow me around. Skulking around outside the club, sneaking in and spying on the two of us together down in the cellar.

"It's just someone that comes into the club sometimes." I offer as an easy excuse.

"And she makes you happy?"

"Yes." I reply, I don't even need to think about it.

"Well I'm dead pleased for ya." She says embracing me.

"Cheers."

"Happy that my best mate has found someone."

"Best mate?" I question. I've said it before but I didn't know she felt the same.

"No one knows me as well as you do."

"No ones how much of a screw up I am."

"No, you're not." She says genuinely. "Anyway this girl, maybe she will sort you out."

"It isn't a she." I blurt it out, I just can't keep lying to her.

"But you said… wait, I don't get it... if it isn't a _she_ …"

"…Then it's a _he_." I finish, not able to look her in the eye. "I've been seeing a man."

After my revelation I look up to see Amy's reaction, the look on her face is one of shock. Her mouth hang wide enough to catch flies, eyes popping out of their sockets and eyebrows vanishing into her hairline. Amy walks into the living room area, with her back to me.

This is what I was afraid of.

"How is this even possible?"

The rejection.

"We've got kids."

The disgust.

"All the times, we uhm…" She coughs awkwardly, but I get the drift. "…Where you gay then?"

No.

Maybe?

I honestly don't know.

I guess I must have been.

"Oh my God, were it all fake?"

I didn't think so at the time.

"Was I a sham?"

"Course not." That I am certain of.

I really cared for Amy, loved her even. I still love her, she gave me my first real family.

"So you did fancy me then?" She asks insecurely.

But Amy has nothing to be insecure about, she was the hottest girl at school. Even a gay guy can she that she's bloody gorgeous.

_Gay._

It hit's me suddenly. I've been sleeping with another man for over three months, I have seriously deep feelings for him, and I'm telling the closet person in the world to me about it.

This is me coming out.

I've been so fixated on Brendan hiding who he is, hiding me that I've not really come to terms with it myself.

Does this make me like proper gay?

"Yeah, I fancied you."

I'm sure of it, but I'm even more confused. Before I met Brendan I was a young father of two with a string of girlfriends. Well not a string, but a good few and I was definitely attracted to women. And now, I guess they're okay, I can see the appeal but I'm not really looking. Then again, I'm not really looking at anyone. It's only Brendan.

"And not just when I had hair like a boy?" Amy asks, smiling.

I smile back, I have to because I can see in her eye's that she's not rejecting me and she doesn't find me disgusting. It was just the initial shock.

"It's just that this is big. I'm kind of nervous."

She's nervous?

"And I'm not?"

I'm the one that has to figure out if he's fully gay, or bi or if it's just a Brendan Brady thing?

"Have you? You know." Amy probes slyly, voice hushed even though it's just the two of us.

I don't answer because it's dead embarrassing, but it makes me think of all the time that Brendan and I have been together. I can feel a smile threatening to grace my face and my cheeks are burning. This is all the answer Amy needs, resulting in an over excited gasp.

I raise my arms to cover my face, because this conversation is getting way too exposing.

{~}

Over dinner and cans of cider, Amy quizzes me about an array of "famous men and _'village hunks'_. Her words not mine.

"Just eat your carbonara before it get's cold, will ya?"

"Okay, Okay. I get it."

She chuckles, absentmindedly twirling her fork around the spaghetti and I can tell she just bursting to say something.

"What is it?"

"Well first it was Craig, and now it's you. Us Barnes sisters are turning men all over the north west."

We both laugh at that.

Amy was the person I was most worried about telling, but she's made it easy. Listening and not freaking out on me.

"Thank you." I say earnestly.

"What for?"

"Just for being you and not treating me any differently."

{~} {~} {~} {~} {~} {~}

It had been a few days since Mitzeee had confronted me over Steven and my feelings for him, and she hasn't stopped with the endless reel of questions. On top of that things have been crazy at the club with John Paul's Gay Night, I haven't had a moment of peace in days. I'm starting to regret agreeing to this, it's only added fuel to the flame and ignited Mitzeee, with talks of self-acceptance and honesty.

But tonight's the night, I'm surround by of boxes of extra stock to make themed _cock_ tails, there's a glitter ball hanging from the ceiling. It's going to happen whether I like it or not.

I've been hiding in my office all day, with absolutely nothing to do I fall asleep on the small sofa. I wake up abruptly from a dream where John Paul was living up to the McQueen name and had turned the place into a bathhouse. I should probably get out there and check he isn't having a podium assembled for a half naked gogo-dancer.

No podium. It's not so different to any other night, the glitter ball is scattering light all over the room, somebody's gotten the strobe light out of storage and there are a few rainbow flag banners.

The music is total and utter crap, which is saying something because I've never been fond of the rubbish my generation likes to bounce away to. I turn to John Paul's DJ booth to tell him to turn off this techno trance noise, but I'm stopped in my tracks.

They must not have noticed me entering to room. I clear my throat, which turns out to be a load cough to be heard over thumpa thumpa of the music. Finally they both look up at me like startled foxes, jumping away from each other.

"Brendan!" John Paul almost screeches out.

There's a pregnant pause, none of us quite knowing what to say. The look on both their faces, the sheer panic, it would be funny if this situation weren't so… wrong.

"I didn't see you there."

"Clearly not."

"Hello." The other man says, looking despairingly. "I'm -"

"Father Kieron. I've been to a few of your services."

"You're part of my congregation?" He nods his head, presumably processing how bad this all looks. "I haven't seen you at mass."

"I tend to sit at the back."

"Okay."

I have nothing more to add to this frivolous conversation, leading to another awkward silence.

"I'm going to get going, I'll be back before the doors open."

"Brendan, wait."

I don't turn, just keep walking but John Paul catches up with me half way down the balcony stairs and grabs hold of my arm."

"I can explain." He's noticeable frazzled.

"No need, really." I say, shaking out of his grasp to continue walking down the stares.

"I can't believe, you, of all people are being like this?"

"Like what?" As ask, stopping as he catches up to me in the courtyard.

"Judgmental." He accuses.

"You should get back in there to your … what is he? Your _boyfriend_." I spit out the word boyfriend with distain, in a mocking tone. "But be careful, staff will start arriving soon."

{-}

By the time I go back to the club the night is well under way. The place is heaving with bodies, there's a strong smell of liquor and sweat in the air and some techno beat blasting out of the speakers.

I'm glad I had the foresight to arrange extra staff, but they're still struggling with the large crowd of people gathering around the bar. I take off my jacket, roll up the sleeves of the shirt and help to serve. With tonight's clientele, I feel more comfortable behind the bar, doing something with my hands.

A few lads try it on with me, it feels me with paranoia, my neurosis has me thinking I'm emitting some kind of signal. But they're trying it on with everyone, making some of my male staff increasingly uncomfortable.

I look across at Steven, there's no discomfort there. He's having a ball, taking it all in is stride. Before I can really process it, Steven's overly accommodating service, John Paul is standing in front of me.

"I don't pay you to stand around."

"I'm entitled to a break." He snaps back.

"You want a drink?"

"Do I want a…" He shakes his head, exasperated. "No, I want, we need to talk about what you saw earlier."

"There's nothing to say." I answer, serving the guy next to him.

"You're not seriously being off with me about this?"

I stop momentarily to look him in the eye, showing him how _serious_ I am.

"You're one to talk?" he retorts, accusation strong in his tone.

"And what does that mean?"

"What it means is you know all about secret relationships and sneaking about."

John Paul doesn't wait for a reply, he walks out onto the balcony and I follow, ready to have this out.

"At least we have a reason for not being honest." He continues.

"That's exactly my point, he's a Priest. A Priest." I repeat. "When the people in this village find out about the two of you and they will, you're going to be painted as the wayward, raging, homosexual who seduced and tainted the local Priest."

He's silent, but the look on his face tells me this thought has been plaguing his mind.

"Be careful." I say, repeating my earlier words but with new meaning. "Make sure it's worth it."

These are my parting words. I return to my office having no motivation to work behind the bar.

{~}

It's not long before Jacquie comes barging in.

"No need to knock."

"I think there's a problem." She tells me with a roll of her eyes, completely disregarding my mood.

"What is it?" I ask sitting up.

"We've had a few people pass out."

"If they're too drunk stop serving them and have one of the bouncers to kick 'em out, make sure they don't throw up in my club."

"No, I think half the people in a here are more than just drunk, if you get what I mean."

She means there are drugs in my club, which in it's self isn't unusual. It's a nightclub, there are always a handful of people completely off their faces. But for Jacquie to be concerned there's obviously a dealer using my club as his hunting ground.

"I'll sort it."

I look around the room, scanning every face until I find some that looks even a little bit suspicious. It doesn't take me long to find him, my head tilting instinctively as I'm overcome with both surprise and annoyance.

I take out my phone and dial his number.

"My office, now."

"Boss." He greets, closing the office door behind him.

"Douglas, what are you doing?" I ask calmly, with a smile on my face.

"Working."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He answers, looking unsure.

He takes a step back, I do the same, closing the gap.

"Remember when I was kind enough to give you this job?"

"Yeah."

"And told you how this was going to work?"

"Yeah." He squeaks.

"What did I say about my club?"

"It is off limits." He recites my words back to me.

"Yet here you are, selling drugs in my club. Am I missing something?"

"I know what you said, but it's been a goldmine out there for me tonight." He takes out a wad of cash from his pocket, looking a little too smug with himself for my liking.

I pick up the money, taking a quick count and he's right at this rate he'll have run through his first batch faster than I ever imagined. I pocket the cash. "Goldmine for me." I correct him.

"But, I've worked really hard for that."

There's bravery and defiance there that I admire, but if he's going to be working for me I better knock it out of him quickly.

"Dougie, Dougie." I laugh, placing light slaps across his cheek. "If I see you in here again you'll lose more than a few hundred." I grab him by the collar of his jacket, and pin him to the wall. "Do not sell drugs at in my club. Do. You. Understand. Me?"

"Yes, yes I understand."

"Good." I let go, realigning his clothing. "Good lad."

I step back, creating just enough space for him to move. But just before his escape I have a thought.

"Douglas."

He stops, head dropping, defeated.

"Yes?"

"Where's my cut from tonight."

"What?" He quakes, spinning round in panic.

"I supply you with a product, you sell on said product, keeping 20% for yourself. Where's my 80% from tonight?"

"But… but?"

"But, but, but, what?" I mock.

"You took all the money I made."

"Lets think of that as a fine for being stupid enough to bring drugs into my club. I still want my percentage."

"Where am I supposed to get that sort of money from?"

"Not my problem." I step forward, entering his personal space once again. "You still owe me." I stab my index finger in to his shoulder, fear radiating throughout his face with every word.

{~}

Once I've dealt with the Douglas problem I take a minute out to survey the club, make sure everything is in order. I look towards the bar, checking the staff is coping and that's when I see them.

Steven with a tall, black guy in a tight t-shirt and a number one buzz cut. I observe them for a moment, deep in conversation, the guy leaning over the bar and Steven is laughing at whatever it is he is saying. He measures out a couple of double vodkas, after a count down they both chuck them back quickly. Steven immediately coughs, never was able to handle spirits straight. As he continues to cough, eyes watering and laughing in embarrassment the guy leans even farther over the bar placing his hand on Steven's arm, touching his bear skin.

I don't even realise that I am reacting until I am standing behind Steven, face to face with this gap-toothed chancer. From close up I can stand the guy even less. The goofy grin, overly worked on body, wondering eyes and the way Steven is completely engrossed in him. Hasn't even noticed my presences.

"I don't pay you to stand around talking to customers, drinking my stock."

"Sorry my fault, I bought Ste a cheeky drink. A thank you for his hospitality." The moron defends Steven, grinning at me. "Best barman I've ever had the pleasure of _having_." He's smirking at Steven now, voice dripping with innuendo.

I want to rip his face off.

"Steven my office, now."

"Wha-"

Steven begins to speak, but I walk off not giving him the chance. He follows me in, closing the door behind him.

"What's up?" He inquires, all smiles.

"What was that?" I get straight to the point, surprised by my own fury.

"What was what?"

"Out there, you and that guy."

"Oh, the drinking I know. But I'm having a banging night, me."

He slides his hands on the inside of my suite jacket, stroking up and down my flank. I take hold of his wrists, removing his hands from me. _'Banging night'_ , it gets me how comfortable he is around… those people.

"Don't you think you're being, I don't know? Overly friendly?"

"Maybe, but I'm raking in the tips. Just in time for Christmas, eh?"

"I think you're giving out the wrong impression." I explain, he's obviously not sensing my… concern.

"I'm just being nice to Noah, making sure he has a good time. You know, repeat business and all that."

I don't need that kind of repeat business.

"Noah is it? You know all the punters by name? Or jus the ones that flirt with you."

He smirks, a glint in his eye and I don't like it.

"Now that I think about it, he is kinda cute."

"Yeah if you're into bald headed, gaped toothed, muscle Marys."

"I was thinking more, clean cut, distinguished and buff. As well as tall, with lush dark skin like chocolate and well fit."

"Are you trying to wind me up?"

"Are you jealous?" He ask, grinning to himself.

"Jealous, of him?" I scoff, I can't help it, it's an involuntary reflex. "Have you seen my face?" I point at my face with both index fingers to prove my point.

"You are jealous." He confirms.

"No, I'm not. It's jus that he was all over you." I counter.

"Hardly."

Steven can be so naïve. He doesn't see it, how beautiful he is. How any guy would be jumping at the chance to spend a night with him. Taking any in that they can get, mistaking is natural, open and responsive nature for interest.

"Do you not trust me?" He questions, brown creased.

_Trust_.

I really don't like that word, I've never trusted anyone. It's not that I don't want to trust him, it's that if life has taught me anything it's to only trust myself.

"Right." He must read the uncertainty on my face. "You know what, when it comes to distrust, you don't have a monopoly."

"What?"

"John Paul?" He states.

"Really this, again?"

"Yes this. I saw you two, earlier having it out in the courtyard. Then before huddled out on the balcony. Talking all private like." He crosses his arms, stance off standish.

"We're mates. He's the resident DJ at my club. We jog together most morning. And he did organise this entire night. Funny that we have things to talk about." I bite back sarcastically.

"It looked a little more heavy than club business or a friendly chat."

"You've been watching me?"

"No. I just wanna know, I need to know what's going on between the two of you."

I exhale to calm myself, I'm tired of the constant accusations. I've never held myself accountable to any lad before, but I've made it clear to Steven more that once that it's only him. Still, it's not enough. Yet, I can see the insecurities behind his eye, how desperate he is for reassurance and I can't hold it against him.

"Steven, honestly we are just friends. That's the last time I'm going to say it."

"Okay. I believe you, but you know he fancies you, right?"

"No, he doesn't."

"Yeah he does." He looks at me like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "That morning after you let him spend the night at yours and I came to get the keys, he made it seem like you'd spent the night together."

I laugh at that, sounds like something he would do.

"He would have just been trying to wind you up."

"But why?" He questions with a furrowed brow. "Wait, does he know?"

"He figured it out."

"Right. So he knows you're gay, he's always hanging around but you don't think he's trying to get into you pants."

"No."

"I thought you were the smart one here."

"He knows about us, so you don't need to worry."

"Yeah, well he knew his last best mate had a girlfriend an'all, didn't stop him jumping in bed with him."

"If you must know he's seeing some one. He's really not a problem."

"He is, who?" Steven questions, obviously intrigued.

"I can't say."

"That bad is it? Another straight guy? This one married? Wife and kids hidden away somewhere?"

He looks at me hopeful for gossip, but I shake my head.

"Come on, just give me a clue."

"Sorry, not my secrete to tell."

"You said he knows about us right? Well people in relationships share everything, he'll know that."

_Relationship._

There's that word.

"Good thing this isn't a relationship then."

His expression switches. "Right, so let me get this straight. John Paul who sleeps around with whoever he likes with not a care in the world who he might hurt-"

This makes me think, Steven could be describing me. I may never have had an affair with priest, but I've been selfish. When Eileen and I first got together I must have cheated with a different guy, a couple of different guys every weekend. There must have been hundreds of them. Back in Liverpool, Vinnie gave me a home, comfort and stability when I need it. I reward him by coming home late at night, lying next to him, sweaty with the smell of another lads.

I'm no better than John Paul, worse even.

"-Him you keep secrets for and defend, but for me you can't even admit what this really is."

For Steven I've been a better me, never even felt the need to look at anyone else. Why does he need more? Why is he always pushing me?

I roar, frustrated. "This, this isn't anything."

"Yeah, I'm starting to see that. I'm going back to work. Get back to Noah."

He slips out quickly, the look he gave me when he said that man's name I know he's just trying to get a reaction – and it works. I pick up my whiskey glass and throw it against the wall, shattering it to tiny pieces.

* * *

**Okay so this chapter was always supposed to end with Brendan getting all jealous, Steven finding it cute, resulting in hot Stendan sex. But no matter how many scenarios I ran through my head, it just didn't work out that way. I wanted certain things to be said and I just couldn't find away for it to lead to a happy ending. I guess they are both too stubborn to give in. But not to worry, the night is still young and Ste's P.O.V is yet to come.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Jealous Ste.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in updating, basically summer happened.

It's been a good few days after coming clean with Amy, she's teased me a bit, well a lot but she's dead supportive too. I feel like a weight has been lifted, I'm starting to accept and understand who I am and what I want.

I want Brendan. Properly, I've never been so sure of anything.

I haven't seen much of him since the whole awkward dinner with Mitzeee. I was worried at first because in situations like this he gets distant, he can be callous, cruel even. But he's just been dead busy and stressed out with the whole gay night, it probably has nothing to do with Mitzeee finding out.

I want to cheer him up, so I pop into Il Gnosh before my shift to pick up his lunch. Jam sandwich and a sugary tea. Tony complains, his _'up scale bistro doesn't sell jam butties'_ but I eventually get him to give in.

From the doorway of Il Gnosh I watch as Brendan storms out of the club, slamming the door behind him. He looks furious, jaw clenched and hands run through his hair. John Paul comes running out a few seconds later, he catches up to Brendan and desperately grabs hold of his arm.

Brendan pushes him away and carries on walking down the fire escape stairs. John Paul looks angry when he reaches him again in the courtyard. I can't hear what's being said from here, they seem to be shouting at each other in whispers. Getting the final word Brendan walks away, John Paul flips him off and heads back up.

I'm not sure what to do, follow Brendan to his place or just go to work? I also don't know what to think. What was all that about? I've never seen him like that before, sure Brendan gets angry, frightening so sometime but that was like disappointment or something.

Brendan will want some space and he won't be in the mood for talking. He's never in the mood for talk, he'll have a few glasses of whiskey and come back later with a clear head.

I go to work.

That priest who's way too friendly speeds past me on his way out of the club, almost running straight into me. He doesn't even stop to apologise, I thought his lot were meant to be dead polite.

"Oi, watch it will ya?" I yell at his back.

He apologises meekly before hurrying away.

I can tell John Paul is still in a mood when I get up there, aggressively looking through his records, with a right face on him. He barely even looks up at me, but for once I actually want to talk to him. Find out what's going on.

"Alright?" I ask.

"What's it to you?" He frowns, looking me over incredulously.

"Just making conversation, being nice and that." I smile tightly.

"Well don't, I'm not in the mood to be dealing with you today." He rages. "Shouldn't you been stacking shelves or mopping the floor or whatever it is you do around here?"

"You ain't the boss of me." I know it's childish as soon as it leaves my mouth, but I get so mad around him.

"This is my night, Brendan's left me in charge so actually I am your boss. I'm not Brendan right, you being _'nice and that'_ has no effect on me so you'll actually have to do some hard work for once."

"What do you know about hard work? You spend all night spinning discs and drinking Brendan's stock, for free I might add." I argue back.

"Are we really going start talking about who's taking advantage of Brendan?"

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing at all." He laughs, shaking his head. "Just stock the bar, yeah?"

"Yeah, after I've eaten me lunch."

I sit on one of the sofas and bite into the jam sandwich I had originally bought for Brendan. Soon after the rest of the staff shows up and everyone's buzzing, making it easy to stay out of John Paul's way. I can't figure out what he meant, all the stuff he said about Brendan and me. But I'm not going to get it from him, I'll have to wait for Brendan to get back.

{~}

I have to give it to John-Paul, the music is ace and everyone is having a great time. The night's proper banging, way better than that gay club I went to in town that one time. Brendan comes in eventually, but his mood doesn't seem to have improved any. He gives us a hand behind the bar, it's mental how busy we are. We brush past each over while moving around and make eye contact but there isn't a second to stop and talk.

But he has plenty of time for John Paul.

They sneak off to the balcony together, Brendan coming back in after a few minutes, John Paul not long after that. I can't figure out the expression on Brendan's face before he locks himself in the office but when John Paul heads back in he looks miserable.

I imagine my face sometimes looking exactly the same. Like after I've had an argument with Brendan, or after he's said something that makes me realise that I'm in this way deeper than he is. I can't help think about what's going on between the two of them. Two arguments in the space of a few hours, John Paul obviously miserable, what the hell is going on?

Brendan has made it clear so many times that this is not a relationship, no matter how much I may want it to be. So if he were sleeping with John Paul why would he lie? He'd have no reason to, I think.

I have to trust him so I throw myself back into work. I shake it off easily enough, the more I think about it the more I realise he has no reason to lie to me. Anyway we're so busy and I'm having such a laugh I don't even have the time to dwell on it.

"Beer please?" The next customer asks.

"Here'ya."

"Come here a lot?" The dark skin man inquires while taking a swig from his beer.

"Yeah, I work here." I tell him confused.

"I know." He laughs. "Just making conversation. I was trying to be funny, obviously failed."

"No, I'm just dead slow, me." I admit, feeling self-conscious.

"I doubt that. Noah by the way." He says, holding out his hand for me to shake.

"Ste."

"Well Ste, it's nice to meet you."

"Same. I've not seen you around before, you just here for the club night?"

"No, actually I've just moved into the village from Manchester."

"I'm originally from Manchester." I note.

"Well it's nice meeting another Manc."

"How you finding it leaving in such a small village?" I remember how weird I found it, difficult to fit in.

"It's… different." He muses, finally finding the right word. "Everyone's been very welcoming, which is nice. I like the sense of community, on the other hand you can't make a move without everyone knowing your business."

"Frankie Osborne, Cindy and Myra Mcqueen." I list the names off on my fingers.

"Huh?"

"Local gossips, don't want the whole village knowing make sure they're out of ear shot."

"That could be difficult as I work for Cindy."

"Hmm, bad luck."

"She's a laugh really."

I leave for a wile to serve other customers, eventually coming back to him when his bottle is empty.

"Two double vodkas barman, let's toast to my new life."

"I'm not really supposed to be drinking."

"Oh come on, you telling me everyone doesn't have a drink now and again?"

"All right then, just the one."

I pour out a couple of drinks, we toast: _'to new beginnings and new friends'_ and then chug them back. I feel the liquor burning a path down the back of my throat, the tingle makes me cough and my eyes water. As my gag reflex kicks in and I splutter some back up, I feel dead embarrassed and I can't help but laugh, which leads to more coughing.

"Light weight."

"No I ain't!" I deny, croaking.

"Why don't the two of us go for a drink sometime?" He invites. "You can welcome me into the village and show me them drinking skills of yours?"

"I don't pay you to stand around talking to customers, drinking my stock." I recognise Brendan's fuming voice from behind me.

"Sorry my fault, I brought Ste a cheeky drink. A thank you for his hospitality." Luckily Noah stands up for me because for once in my life I've nothing to say. "Best barman I've ever had the pleasure of having."

"Steven my office, now." Brendan demands.

"Wha-" Brendan's already walking away. "I should go." I indicate towards the office door.

"I'll still be here, waiting."

{~}

' _What? But I'm working.'_ Is what I was going to say, before Brendan so rudely walked off. I'm used to sneaking away in the middle of my shift for a quick one – down in the cellar or the office – but never when it's this busy. Then again, I've not had anytime with him for days now, if the boss lets me skive off to get off, who am I to complain?

"What's up?" I ask casually, knowing full well what's on his mind.

"What was that?" He demands, ignoring my question.

Looking at him, properly, I can see that something is bothering him and maybe the whole strict boss thing wasn't an act just to get me alone.

"What was what?"

"Out there, you and that guy."

Is this just about me drinking on the job? I know he doesn't like the staff getting legless, but it was only one shot. This I can deal with. The night's been a great success and everyone loves it so he can't stay mad at me for very long.

"Oh, the drinking I know I shouldn't." I say innocently, gliding my hands down his waist, trying to butter him up. "But I'm having a banging night, me."

"Don't you think you're being, I don't know? Overly friendly?" He asks, taking my hands off of him.

"Maybe, but I'm raking in the tips." I've made more money in tips tonight than I'd normally make in a month. "Just in time for Christmas, eh?"

"I think you're giving out the wrong impression."

_Wrong impression?_

I'm just doing my job.

"I'm just being nice to Noah, making sure he has a good time. You know, repeat business and all that."

I throw in a business term I've heard Mitzeee say, to make it sound proper professional. It just seems to make him angrier.

"Noah is it?" He spits, tick in his cheek going off like crazy. "You know all the punters by name? Or jus the ones that flirt with you."

Flirt with? What is he going on about? I look back towards the bar for answers, even though the door is closed. Wait, flirting with Noah? It hits me, he's jealous of that guy from the bar. It makes me laugh, because the idea is ridiculous. I've never seen Brendan like this, all twitchy and unsure, insecure even. I never thought I'd see him so… I don't know, like he cares?

"Now that I think about it, he is kinda cute." I know I shouldn't but I can't help but mess with him, for all the times I've felt jealous.

"Yeah if you're into bald headed, gaped toothed, muscle Marys." He digs.

"I was thinking more, clean cut, distinguished and buff." I counter. "As well as tall, with lush dark skin like chocolate, well fit."

"Are you trying to wind me up?"

_Yes._

"Are you jealous?" I can't even hide the smile on my face any longer, because he's so obviously is.

"Jealous, of him? Have you seen my face?"

Uh, he's so cocky, but still jealous.

"You are jealous." I confirm.

"No, I'm not. It's just that he was all over you."

"Hardly." This is the problem with Brendan, he doesn't understand a simple act of kindness. "Do you not trust me?" I don't even need an answer, I can see it on his face. I've chosen to trust him today and I've taken his word when he's asked, why is this such a problem? "Right. You know what, when it comes to distrust, you don't have a monopoly."

"What?"

"John Paul?"

_Fucking John Paul._

"Really this, again?" He asks, clearly bored of he topic.

"Yes this. I saw the two of you, earlier having it out in the courtyard. Then before huddled out on the balcony. Talking all private like." I let out all the things that have been building up today.

"We're mates. He's the resident DJ at my club. We jog together most morning. And he did organise this entire night. Funny that we have things to talk about."

I hate when he gets sarcastic like this, like he's showing how much cleverer he is than me. He really still trying to push the whole ' _just mates'_ thing, after everything I've seen. Brendan can't stand most people, yet John Paul he just can't stay away from?

"It looked a little more heavy than club business or a friendly chat." I argue back, sardonically.

"You've been watching me?"

He make's me sound like some kind of bunny boiler or paranoid housewife or worse some stalker that can't take no for an answer.

"No. I just wanna know, I need to know what's going on between the two of you."

He doesn't say anything for a long time, just stares at me with this angry gaze and it's unnerving. After a while of nothing but the semi-muted sound of music through the door his expression softens. I finally think he's going to come out and say it, admit it.

"Steven, honestly we are just friends. That's the last time I'm going to say it." He's normally expressionless, hard to read but it's like he's begging me to believe him.

For what it's worth I do.

"Okay. I believe you, but you know he fancies you, right?" Just because I believe him doesn't mean I trust John Paul.

"No, he doesn't."

"Yeah he does." I laugh out because it's so obvious. "That morning after you let him spend the night at your's and I came to get the keys, he made it seem like you'd spent the night together."

He just laughs like its no big deal, but I know what John Paul is like. With Craig Dean, he didn't care if the guy was 'straight' or in a relationship, just went for what he wanted.

"He would have just been trying to wind you up." He reasons, blowing it off.

"But why?" I ask because it doesn't make any sense, even if he does have a thing for Brendan why make the effort of making me think there is something going on between them, unless... "Wait, does he know?"

"Yeah, he figured it out." He admits calmly, which is weird.

"Right." He knows Brendan is gay, how does that make this any better? "So he knows you're gay, he's always hanging around but you don't think he's trying to get into you pants."

"No." Brendan answers without pause, sure of himself.

"I thought you were the smart one here."

"He knows about us, so you don't need to worry."

"Yeah, well he knew his last best mate had a girlfriend an'all, didn't stop him jumping in bed with him."

Why is he blind to this?

"If you must know he's seeing someone. He's really not a problem."

"He is, who?" I ask with intrigue, feeling like one of the gossips Noah and I were talking about just a few minuets ago.

"I can't say."

"That bad is it?" I ask, my mind starting to wonder. "Another straight guy? This one married? Wife and kids hidden away somewhere?" He simply shakes his head. "Come on, just give me a clue."

"Sorry, not my secrete to tell."

"You said he knows about us right? Well people in relationships share everything, he'll know that." I debate still trying to get the dirt on John Paul.

"Good thing this isn't a relationship then." He snipes.

This again, when will the denial end? He can't even be honest when it's just the two of us. I'm not asking for a marriage proposal or even to be boyfriends, just some acknowledgment that this is real, that there's more than just sex between us.

"Right, so let me get this straight. John Paul who sleeps around with whoever he likes, not a care in the world who he might hurt, him you keep secrets for and defend. But for me you can't even admit what this really is."

He lets out this animalistic roar, like nothing I've ever seen before. "This, this isn't anything."

"Yeah, I'm starting to see that." I'm finally getting it into my thick head that he's never going to commitment, not even a little. "I'm going back to work. Get back to Noah."

{~}

He did wait, Noah, he's seated on the exact same stool that I left him on.

"More shots I think." I suggest, enthusiastically with a big smile on my face.

"That's the spirit."

I turn to get the drinks, but I have to stops because my hands are shaking from anger. I breathe through it. Inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth while counting to ten, like I learnt in anger management. When I turn back to Noah the strained smile returns, I don't think he's noticed, happily slamming back the drink.

"Another?"

"Why don't we slow down a bit?"

"Yeah, sorry. Just not having a great night."

"The boss?"

"How'd you guess?"

Noah tilts his head, indicating to the end of the bar where Brendan is standing. He's giving us a death stare, with a bottle of whisky in his left hand and a glass in the right.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"More like every morning." I reply bitterly. "Enough about him, tell me about you?"

{~}

The night goes pretty fast after that, it's a blur. It could just be how busy we are, Noah kindly keeping me company or the large amount of alcohol I've consumed. We stay open two hours later than the normal closing time, Noah being the last person to leave. Thirty minuets after that most of the staff have gone, leaving me, John Paul and Brendan.

Awkward.

I escape to the ground floor, distractedly wiping down the bar top. I can hear their muffled voices from up stairs, so I stop what I'm doing and creep half way up the stairs.

"- what you said before and I think I understand why you reacted the way you did." It's John Paul.

"You do?" Brendan sceptically inquires.

"Yes."

"So you're going to end it?"

"You asked me if he is worth it and the answer is yes. No wait, let me finish okay? I never thought I would feel like this, that I'd find some else that made me feel safe and loved and like I'm worthwhile."

Is he talking about Brendan or this mystery man he's supposedly seeing?

"As long as you're sure."

"I am. So we're good?"

"Great."

"Good. I'm going to get off, thanks for the beer."

I realise that's my queue to move because John Paul will be walking down the stairs any second. I run down on my tiptoes, as quietly as I can picking up the rag and continue wiping down the bar.

After locking the door behind John Paul I go up to see Brendan and he looks as drunk as I feel. Miserable too. I stay stood at the top of the stairs, lips scrunch to the side of my face, looking down at my fidgeting fingers. I don't know what to say and he isn't talking either, if one of us doesn't say something soon I'm going to be stood here all night.

"We need to talk." I tell him, walking to the bar.

"We do?"

"Yeah, about everything that went on tonight."

"You mean you with that pillock?"

"Can you just stop drinking?" I cry, prying the glass out of his hand. Neither of us needs to get any drunker, it won't help. "And this has nothing to do with that guy. This is a bout you and-"

"God help me, if you mention John Paul one more time, I'm going to lose my mind." He spits. "I get it, I'm the only guy you've ever been with but it-"

"No you're not." I smugly inform him.

"I'm not what?"

"Your not the only one." I smirk, spitefully.

"You're lying." But he looks unsure.

"No, I ain't."

"You said I was your first."

"You were." And technically only. "It was after that."

"So I've been putting up with all this grief over John Paul when you're the one that's been sleeping around?" He laughs to himself. "You know what I'm not even surprised."

"What does that mean?"

"Well you pretend to be this family man, bad kid turned good. But look at you, the show you put on for that Noah tonight. You're always gagging for it."

"Don't talk to me like that!" I shout, getting into his face.

"I've put up with you long enough I think I've earned it. What was it, sweaty one night stands in club toilets?"

I lose my shit, seeing punch him, my knuckles throbbing from the impact. Brendan just laughs wiping the blood from his split lip.

"There he is, the real Ste Hay." He hisses.

I can't believe how much it hurts, a little thing like him calling me Ste. The way he said it: _Ste Hay_ , like I'm insignificant. Just a council rat in a tracksuit.

"Don't act like you didn't deserved that." I don't back down.

"What for?"

"You basically called me a slut."

"Your words."

I go for another punch, but he sees it coming this time and grabs my wrist before I can make contact. Time stops and we're just staring at one and other, the room filled with our heavy, angry breaths. Brendan still has a tight grip on my wrist, he's moving in closer until his lips are hungry pressed against mine but I pull away, cutting it short.

"It wasn't an insult." He says, looking me in the eye. "I like that you love dick, that you love my dick."

He kisses me again, pulling at my bottom lip to draw me in. Again I push him away.

"No, I'm still angry with you."

"You telling me you're not hard right now?" He ask, smugly.

Brendan steps into me, so we're groin to groin and he's right, I am hard. Embarrassingly so, my erect length pushing against him, making him smirk.

"Like I said." He gloats. "You love my dick. You love sucking on it."

He unbuttons my jeans.

"You love having my come slide down you throat."

Then pulls down the zipper.

"Most of all, you love having it buried deep inside of you, stretching you wide and making you scream. The noises you make."

His lips are on mine again, hand on the back of my head holding me firm while his tongue explores my mouth, ravenous. For a third time I stop him, but make no attempt to escape his hold.

"You're an arrogant fuck." I spit.

This time it's me that goes for the kiss. Its uncoordinated and desperate, too much teeth and saliva while tongues battle. Brendan spins us around and walks us back till my back hits a wall. The harsh impact producing an _'ouch'_ from me, but it's ignored by us both, too busy fighting to get the other man's clothes off with out breaking the kiss.

I grab hold of the lapels of Brendan's jacket, skimming it over his shoulders and down his arms. Brendan pulls away long enough to remove my t-shirt, whist keeping us connected by grinding his groin into my throbbing cock. The friction created is so delicious pre-come leaks from my slit.

"Oh god!" I cry.

I clumsily grasp at his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers and pawing at the skin I can get to on his lower back. I want more, need more exposed skin and so start to undo the buttons. I continue to grind against him, my lips now pressed into the base of his neck, into that beautiful curve down to his back.

I can hear him ripping open a condom rapper, the time has came for me to pull those absurdly tight trousers down. A wet patch of pre-come is revealed, it marks the head of his dick, straining for release from his tight boxers. I pull down the boxers, gliding over and squeezing his firm bum cheeks while he rolls the condom onto himself.

I hurriedly kick off my trainers, pulling down my jeans and briefs simultaneously. We're kissing again, Brendan's palms cup my bum and he tugs me up so I can wrap my legs around him. I slide two fingers into his mouth while we maintain intense eye contact, he suck on them hard, slicking them up. I slide both fingers into myself, fingering myself as Brendan reclaims my mouth.

I'm not loose enough when I position the head of Brendan's cock at my entrance, but I can't wait. He looks at me to make sure I can take it, his eyes uncertain. The kiss I give him must be reassurance enough, the head of his cock finally penetrated my tight muscle.

The feeling I get from penetration is indescribable, like my soul as well as my entire being is opening up for him. I can feel my muscles working to pull him in, as if in sync with my lustful mind. He drives into me with one thrust, our moans echoing loudly throughout the room.

"Sweet, sweets screams." He croons.

His thrusts are hard, his pace and rhythm are fast and erratic and I love it. It's carnal, me clawing at every piece of expose skin I can reach, him biting and sucking at me. It's rough and desperate, both of us taking what we need from the other's body – needing the other's body. Brendan takes hold of my dick, pumping it erratically as he is fucking me and I can tell this isn't going to last for much longer. Both of us too drunk for stamina and frantically trying to reach release.

The room is spinning, the combination of pain and pleasure driving me over the edge. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of being stretched and filled to the limit, as he continues to work his cock against my prostate.

"Open you eyes for me."

I do as I'm told. He's eyes are black, pupils completely blown. Brendan is beyond the point of arousal, he's lost, has come apart for me, because of me and it is this thought that finally pushes me over the edge. We peak almost simultaneously, an orgasm ripping through each of us, gasping and panting into each other's mouths.

We stay like this, him still buried inside of me with his head tucked under my chin, my arms and legs wrapped around him tightly, in post - earth shattering - orgasmic bliss.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

After regaining my breath, I slowly pull out of Steven, tying and discarding the condom somewhere on the floor. Steven is laughing, and I know without having to ask that he's laughing at us. The state we're in is ridiculous. His head is resting back on the wall, exposing his bobbing Adam's apple. I kiss it, placing wet kisses all over his neck, feeling the vibration from his laughter. His laughter becomes hysterical and I can't help but laugh too. Him in nothing but bright blue socks and me with my trousers half way down my thighs and my shirt still on, both of us covered in sweat, scratches and bites.

I pull up my trouser and carry him over to one of the sofas, sitting down with him on my lap.

"That was amazing." He breathes, exhausted, kissing my temple.

"It was something." I contemplate, examining my handprint, inflamed red onto his skin. "Angry sex is always stupendous."

"Stupendous?" He questions, his nose scrunching in confusion.

"Yeah, stupendous: something that is extremely impressive. Astounding, marvellous, wonderful."

"Stupendous." He says, as if he's trying it out, trying to get a feel for it. "You're stupendous." He grins.

"That I am."

"Big headed much?"

"An alternative definition for stupendous: of amazing size and of astounding force."

"Okay." He agrees. "I can account for the amazing size and force bit."

Steven flexes his hip, a grimace overcoming his face at the movement.

"You sore?"

"No, not really."

I raise a disbelieving eyebrow at his denial.

"A little." He confesses.

"Sorry." I offer, kissing his collarbone and stroking the back of his head. "I got carried away."

"Don't apologies for that, I wanted it just as much as you did. Anyway it's a good kind of sore. Remember like you told me it would be?" I shake my head, but I do remember, I remember every moment of that night. "Our first time, at that party you said there will always be some pain but that's what makes it so good. You said I'd crave it, thought you were crazy but just then, I all but begged for it. Only you can do that to me."

"So why the other men?" I slip in, trying to conceal how much the answer matters to me.

He bites his lip nervously, not making eye contact.

"Steven?" I croak, worried now.

I physically tilt his head, my hand on his chin, he has no choice but to face me.

"If I tell you, you have to give me something."

"Give you something?"

"Yeah, like I answer a question, then you answer one."

I take my time to answer, thinking it over. Giving him the chance to get anything he wants out of me could potentially be a big mistake. On the other hand, in my inebriated state I can't bring myself to worry about the problems of tomorrow.

"Sure."

_Why not?_

"Go on then." I push when his silences continues.

"So I lied, there was only _one_ other guy. It was like you said, in the loo of some club in town. But we didn't shag, I gave him a blowjob and then he finished me off - with his hand. Syon his name was." Steven laughs, and it's hollow and heartless as if he's mocking his own memories. "I remember he wouldn't even kiss me, jerked away from when I tried. After, when we were done, he said _'thanks' -_ like I'd held a door open for him. Made me feel proper cheap. Dirty."

"You are neither of those things." I speak with conviction, look him in the eye so he knows I'm being genuine.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I tell him, without pause. No hesitation.

I brush the hair from his forehead and tuck a few stray strands behind his ear before placing a kiss on the forehead. Steven Hay is an incredible specimen of a boy, no a man. This Syon whoever he is, I want to punch the fucker for making him feel like anything less than incredible.

"When was this?" I ask, but I don't mean to. The question leaves my lips before my brain can even process why I am asking it.

I ask because I need to know, for some reason it just matters. If it was recently it would feel like a betrayal, even though I know I have not right to feel betrayed. Betrayal infers that he owns me something or that I have some kind of claim over him, which in turn would mean that he has some kind of claim over me. He doesn't. I've been pushing for casual and shutting him down anytime he mentioned anything heavy, but I thought we had monogamy if nothing else. So yes it would feel like a betrayal, and I need to gauge how big this betrayal is.

"It was my first day working here, after you said we were a one time thing. I felt rejected, and… I just need someone you know?"

Yeah I know. Intimacy, a warm body next to yours, what else is life about? But that's not a betrayal at all. My stupid rules pushed him into the arms of someone else. Some guy that didn't treat him right and couldn't even see Steven's true worth.

"My turn." He says, interrupting my train of thought.

"What do you want to know?"

He sighs, chewing on the corner of his lip. There is a slight quirk to one of his eyebrows that tells me he's thinking of the right question to take full advantage of this rare spell of openness.

"Why won't you tell me who John Paul is seeing?"

"I stumbled across something he's not ready for the world to find out about. He's my friend and he trusts me not to go blabbing his business all over the village." Steven opens his mouth to protest, but I don't give him the chance. "I know it's just you and I can tell you things, but I also know what it's like to have a secret. I'm not going to betray him."

"You're dead loyal, you." He coos.

"Yeah, yeah." I caution, batting him away. "I have a question."

He simple nods.

"Before, you said being with that guy made you feel cheap and disgusting. When… when I walked out of that bedroom that first night, did I make you feeling like that too?"

"No." He says, furiously shaking his head. "Don't get me wrong, it didn't fill me with joy but you made sure my first time was special. You were gentle and caring, and like proper giving." He praises, a filthy smirk growing on his face.

Steven plants his lips onto mine, both hands pulling on the back of my neck and kissing me hard. I run the tip of my tongue along his lip, trying to coax it open. I'm ready for round two, but he pulls away. His bottom row of teeth comes up to tug down on his top lip and he just stares at me, an oddly daring look in his eye. He wants to say something.

"What is it?"

"I, er-" He doesn't finish, just laughs and shakes his head. He's got me worried, but I stay silent, give him the chance to talk. Steven inhales a big breath of courage before speaking again. "I love you." He reveals, speaking incredibly quickly. "Fuck, I love you Brendan." He repeats it, smiling now.

He lets out a sigh of relief, a weight lifted now that he's finally got it out. But for me, after he utters _those_ three words, time comes to a stand still. Only seconds have passed, but a lot can happen in a few seconds. These few seconds and whatever happens in the proceeding seconds are going to be a defining point. But he's said it, it can't be taken back, things are going to change no matter what.

He's looking down at me, waiting for my response. Every second that ticks by with my continued silence I see the bright expression on his face become slightly more strained. The silence is almost tangible, and we're crushing under the weight of it, suffocating. Steven is still sat straddling me, completely naked - bar the socks - and it's not hot or sexy, or even awkward because all there is right now is the silence.

Deafening silence.

"Steven, don't." I finally speak, and it's almost a plead.

"No it's fine, right. I know you don't feel the same right now and I don't expect you to say it back." He's speaking too fast, blabbering and I don't know what to think. His eyes are burning a hole into the tattoo on my chest so I can't figure out if he's being truthful or if it's just talk to save face. "I didn't say it to hear it said back to me, I said it because it's true. I don't need you to say it back, but I need you to say something. I need to know how you feel… about me, about us and where this is heading."

He finally looks me in the eye, and shit that look in his eye makes me feely guilty. I run my fingers through his hair, grazing his scalp lightly before resting my forehead against his.

"What is this to you? Because to me this is more than just sex now-" He pauses, like the act of speaking has become physically overwhelming. He takes a moment to steady his shaky voice before continuing. "I need to know… I'm not crazy am I? People don't argue with that much rage, then rip each others clothes off two seconds later with even more passion if it's just fucking. If there are no feelings involved, if it isn't-"

He stops again, his voice actually giving out and I know it's because he doesn't want to use that word again. He said I don't have to say it back, but everything else, his sad eyes, wobbling, pouting lip and tense body language tells me otherwise.

But I can't bring myself to say the words I mean, let alone mean the words I say. So I kiss him.

My lips are against his and I hear the hitch in his throat, when he responds it's passionate and firm in a desperate way. I glide my hand down his back, touching soft skin and he suddenly jerks from my touch.

"Don't!"

He pulls away from my hold to stand. His crotch in line with my eyes, I stand too.

"Don't what?"

"You always do this." He tells me in a small frustrated voice, clenching his fist and pressing his wrist against his eyes. "When I try to talk or get a little serious you try and distract me, fob me off with sex. Please for once, just be honest."

"I'm not fobbing you off, I just…" I sit back down, head resting against the back of the sofa, with my eyes closed. "I've never been good with words, Steven. Saying how I feel and shit, because honestly I don't know what's going on in my own head half the time." I tap my finger against my temple for emphasis. "You are so young and you talk about love with such conviction. I don't even know what the word means, I don't feel it and in all honesty I don't think I'm capable of it." I admit.

"You are. I've seen it. You have love for your son. For Cheryl. What you mean is you could never love me!" He barks in a miffed tone. "That you don't feel anything for me."

"That's a different kind of love, they're my flesh and blood. What you're talking about I don't feel it and not just with you, not with anyone…" I open my eyes to finally looking at him. "But I do, I do feel something for you. Of corse I do."

That seems to settle him and he sits down next to me, only touching along the length of our thighs. But I know Steven and this isn't the end of it, he's going to want more than a vague admission of emotion.

"What do you feel exactly?"

"I just told you didn't I? I'm no good with articulating what I want to say."

"Try." He pleads.

He shifts to face me, his bare ass now cradling on his legs, which are folded up under him. He rests his forehead against my temple before whispering _'try'_ again.

"I don't hate having you around." I attempt.

It sounds weak, even to me but when I look at him out of my peripheral I see a small smile grace his lips.

"That it?" His voice slurs, but it's playful, flirtatious even.

Defiantly flirting, he's kissing and nuzzling his nose into the side of my face in an attempt to pry more information out of me. Now he's licking, the tips of his tongue making a wet trail up my face. Fuck he's drunk, we both are and it's making us reckless.

"When you said you had been with other guys, I didn't like it. I don't want anyone else touching you or seeing what it looks like when you come apart. And I don't want or need anyone else, only you."

He climbs on top of me, straddling my lap once again. He lands a chaste kiss on my lips, endlessly kissing me madly on the mouth and then plants flitting pecks all other my face.

His excitement sobers me.

"That doesn't mean I'm your boyfriend or whatever, because that's not what his is." I conclude.

The kisses stop.

"Because we're two blokes?"

"Yes, no, maybe… Shit Steven, I don't know." I vent. "You have to understand that my entire life I was taught that this between us, it's wrong, an abomination. That what we do makes me a sinner. The first time I was with a man, I half expected the ground to open up and the devil himself to drag me down to the depths of hell."

"I understand." He tells me. "kinda, not all that Bible and hell stuff, but I get that you believe it and you must be-" His face scrunches up as he tries to come up with the right word. "-conflicted."

"I've always felt guilty, wrong afterwards, but with you I don't and that's what scares me."

"I scare you?" He asks, stroking his hand down the back of my head, over and over.

"I scare me. My feelings for you scare me, because I never expected to have them." I reveal, exhaling a large puff of breath. "I never expected this, this _relationship-"_ Yes I said it, relationship. "-to get under my skin."

He moves the material of my shirt covering my chest and places a slow kiss over my heart. My eyes close instinctively as I take it in, it's not sexually provocative or erotic, just simple affection. He continues with the lingering kisses, slowly making his way up my neck until he's kissing me passionately.

I break the kiss, and say breathlessly, "let's lay down, get some sleep."

{~}

I wake up hungover, dry mouthed and tired. We didn't fall asleep until after 4am but like clockwork my internal clock has me up before 8am. Steven's still asleep, dead to the world and with no one to witness I feel no shame watching him as he sleeps. He has unparalleled beauty, his features are soft with sleep, lips parted and light snore escaping him.

He's smiling in his sleep and his eyes are dancing behind his eyelids, he must be dreaming. I wonder what about, boys his age always having wet dreams. Now I'm thinking about last tonight, and all the other nights I've spent with Steven. I've had good sex before, unforgettable sex but nothing compares to being with this boy. I've never craved the feeling of being enclosed in another man's heat so badly. Every time is like our first time, it's still just as exciting and explorative and I can't believe there are still parts of him that I am yet to have kissed.

"I can feel you looking at me." Steven has a smile in his voice, opening one eye to look up at me. "You been watching me sleep for long? Because that's dead sweet, that is."

"I've literally woke up ten seconds before you did." I lie.

"Whatever you say." He smirks knowingly. "But I know how you hate it when I ain't around, you miss me while I'm asleep too?"

_Fuck._

The sex I remember but baring my soul while intoxicated managed to slip my mind. I got sloppy, said more than I'd ever intended to say, more than I even knew I felt.

What is it they say? _With wine comes fucking truth._

When sober I can't bring myself to say the words I mean, but maybe drunk I _do_ mean the words I say?

"Shut up and gissa' kiss."

And he's right, I do divert his attention with sex.

He leans away, scrunching up his face. "No, it smells like something died in my mouth."

"Steven, I said gissa' kiss."

In one surprisingly graceful move Steven is sitting on top of me, straddling my hips. He leans forward, kissing me with an open mouth, slipping his tongue into my mouth, while grinding down on my crotch. Morning breath be damned.

"How is it I'm butt ass naked but you're pretty much fully dressed?" He enquires.

"You're the one that got all worked up, angry, horny and impatient as hell."

"Well, if last night was angry sex the next logical step is make up sex."

"Naturally."

Steven slides his hands between my legs, unbuttoning my fly and I tilt my hips up so he can pull down my trouser and boxers. His fingers gently enfold my dick and leisurely working my stiffening length. Unhurriedly back and forth, and I can't get over how quickly he's picked this up, like a fucking art form. He knows how to vary both speed and pressure, no longer the novice I met a few months back. He has become a grandmaster in how to pleasure me.

With his other hand he reaches under and starts to caress my balls. Gently rubbing, massage, and teasing, he's working on me with both hands and I'm starting to burn with anticipation. He continues to play with me like this then clamps onto my balls with a particularly strong squeeze.

"Don't you dare come now!" He warns in a hushed but commanding voice. "I ain't done with you yet, lay back and enjoy it, but don't come."

He goes back to stroking my cock and rubbing my balls. The defiant look in his eye leaves me with little doubt as to who's in charge here. So I succumb, go with it, but the strange thing is I can relax, submitting to him. I like being the object of his attention and the source of his desire, it drives me crazy.

He moves down my body, closing his luscious lips over my erection. His lips and tongue replaced his hand in stroking and squeezing my penis. In and out, from tip to base and back. Christ, the sensation being dragged out of me, I could pass out from it.

My head is thrown back and I screw my eyes shut. I'm afraid that looking down at the sight of what he is doing to me will push me off that orgasmic cliff I am teetering on.

He rolls a condom over me and in one fluid movement he manages to impale himself down on my erection. He slid onto my manhood so skilfully that I have to look now, risk coming early to see the sight before me. Steven inclines into me with his whole body, chest to chest, and his glistening lips brush, tongue darting and probing mine. His tongue is just as talented inside my mouth as it is wrapped around my erection.

He leans up, hands resting on my shoulders for leverage rocked back and forth over my straining cock, and I keep my eyes open now, watching his face as his eyes close.

"Jesus Steven, I'm gonna come soon."

"No, not yet." He huffs back, pleading. "Give me a minute, I'm almost there too."

He contracts his muscles to tighten the grip on my swollen, throbbing cock, and I grip my fingernail into his hips as an alternative form of release. I'm hanging on for dear life as he's riding me, literally lifting my ass up off the sofa and slammed it back down again. I can tell by his breathing – or lack thereof – that he really is on the verge of coming. I bend my knees, plant my feet flat and lift my ass and him off the sofa, driving as deep inside Steven as I possibly can.

"Oh God!" He screams.

That does the trick, his eyes fly open and he forcefully exhales through his mouth. I wrap my arms around her neck, feverishly seek out those succulent lips, and closes down on his in time to take in his squeal of orgasmic pleasure as his spunk shoots all over his chest. His rhythmic trembles and contractions that ripple along the length of my erection kindles my own orgasm, thundering violently through my body.

Slowly, as our tension subsided he begins to loosen his grip on me and I let go of his hips. Steven slowly swings his leg up and over, disposing of the used condom before collapsing on his side next to me.

He nuzzles his head into my chest, and I swear he purrs like a satisfied cat. After a few minutes, he plants a warm wet kiss on my mouth. Lying back he stars at the ceiling in a daze, looking well and truly fucked.

"That good?" I gloat.

"When I come like that, with just you inside of me it's-"

"-stupendous?" I interrupt.

"You're stupendous."

"That, we established last night."

I kiss the edge of his shoulder, my lips tracing all the way to his neck to his jawline. He's ticklish there, the short strands on my moustache blistering against his soft skin, causing him to giggle. The boy is squirming beneath me, letting out soft, short outbursts of laughter before he erupts into that donkey laugh of his.

The laughter dies down and when Steven looks me in the eye I see it, it's the same way Vinnie started to look at me. And I know what he's going to say before he even opens his mouth to speak.

"I love you."

Christ, there that word is again.

_Love._

Last night I was carless with my words, let the alcohol loosens my tongue and inhibitions. But now sober, in the harsh light of day I have to put this straight, make certain that he doesn't over step that line.

But the sound of the club door opening and the click clack of shoes making their way cross the room pushes whatever it is I was going to say to the back of my mind. Steven is wide eyed with panic, both of us jolting up to our feet.

"Who's there?" I hear my sister's voice call from below.

"Where are my clothes?" Steven whispers.

I point over at the spot where I fucked him against the wall, his clothes and shoes discarded in a pile on the floor.

"Whoever you are, I'm coming up and I'm armed."

Steven's cradling his clothes in one arm, trying to get dressed with his free hand. But there isn't time, I can hear Cheryl coming up the stairs. I grab him, t-shirt half on and shove him through the toilet door just as Cheryl reaches the last step.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph." She gasps. "You scared the living daylights out of me."

"Me?" I question nonchalantly, pulling myself together. "You're the one sneaking around my club." I look at here, umbrella raised above her head. "And what you planning to do with that, take out my eye?"

"I heard noises and though someone had broken in."

"What you doing here so early anyway?"

"I assumed you had been cleaning up into the wee hours and were now having a lie in. I was trying to be a helpful sister and open up for you."

"No it's fine, I've go every thing covered here." I reason, trying to get her to leave.

"You look blown." She grins.

"What?"

My mind goes back to what was going on a few moments ago, does she know?

"Away." She adds. "You look blown away, Bren."

"Just happy that I've got my sister here, looking after me and my business."

"Really? Because I would have thought you where happy because you got your leg over last night."

"No it's like you said, I was cleaning up and then I just fell asleep."

"That your story?" She interrogates.

"Ain't a story sis, s'what happened."

"Really? Well the club doesn't look like it's been cleaned at all, you've got fresh scratches all over your chest, a rip in your shirt-" I look down to where she's pointing, Steven's some how managed to half rip the sleeve off. "-You need to do up your trousers and there are condoms on the floor. Which is gross by the way."

_Shit, she's got me._

I pull up the zipper on my trousers and start to fasten the buttons on my shirt in an attempt to look more presentable.

"Look Chez, I can explain."

"You don't need to explain, I get it. You and _Miteee_ had yourselves a sleepover."

"Mitzeee, right."

Thank god for my beard, I could kiss that girl.

"I know I wasn't sure about here, thought you were just thinking with your dick but I think she's good for you. I've not seen you this happy in a long time."

Cheryl steps forward to embrace me in a hug, over her shoulder I spot Steven now fully dressed lurking in the toilet doorway.

"All right sis, no need to get all soppy."

I swivel on the spot so Cheryl has her back to him, giving him the chance to sneak across the club to the balcony exist.

After Vinnie I swore to myself that I wouldn't make the same mistake with the next lad. That there wouldn't be a next lad, just a string of one night stands never to cross my mind again. One blurring into the next. But here I am again, another boy has gotten too close, looking at me like I'm his world.

The smile on his face before he slips out tells me we're defiantly not on the same page with this. The problems of tomorrow are now the problems of today.

 


	15. Chapter Fithteen

 

We're wrapped around each other, his limbs tangled with mine, lying on the aged sofa situated in the middle of the club. He's kissing my jaw, uses his moustache to tickle me, knows how ticklish I am there. I start laughing in anticipation, before he's even properly touches me, I try getting away but he's on top of me now, too heavy for my smaller frame. His fingers are light and fast, dancing over the nerves on my stomach and underarms. I laugh out loud and uncontrollably, my entire body squirms and spasms involuntarily at the stimulation of my ticklish spots.

I think at some point the laughter has less to do with being tickled and more to do with being happy. Last night was incredible, I was happy, so even though I hadn't intending on saying those words, I had. I was waiting until I thought he felt the same or maybe even said it first, however unlikely that may have been. But loving someone isn't about having the person love you back. In that moment it didn't matter, all that matter was how he made me feel.

I'd go to the ends of the earth and back if Brendan asked, I'd drop everything for him. He's not even really my boyfriend, but I'm buzzing from the feelings he ignites within me, I'm rocket high, above the moon and back again, I love him, I'm in love with him.

I'm in love with Brendan Brady.

So I say it, hesitated at first, but once it was out I just wanted to scream it until I was blue in the face.

And now I'm saying it again.

I want him to know that no one will ever love him like I love him.

But, I don't get the chance to tell him all of this, and he doesn't get the chance to reply to any of it because we are both jumping to our feet in a panic at the sound coming from below us.

It's Cheryl.

"Where are my clothes?" My heart is pounding against my chest.

Brendan points me in the right direction, looking as panicked as I feel. I try to get dressed quickly but my hands are shaking, and the sound of Cheryl's footsteps are getting closer. Brendan jolts into action, hurriedly guiding me to the toilets before Cheryl can see.

I listen to the siblings talk as I get dressed, Cheryl twigs on about the sex, but she thinks he's spent the night with Mitzeee. I know it's silly, especially as I knew what this was before I got involved but it creates this dark, heavy pit in my stomach.

Cheryl seems to be changing her mind about Mitzeee, thinks it's her that's made Brendan so happy recently. This hurts even more, Brendan is so different from when I met him. He missed Ireland, his life back home and most of all, his son. I know he loves having Cheryl around but I think I've helped too, I'm part of his happiness. I helped him get over whatever it is he's hiding from, running from. But no one knows this, it's all attributed to his glamour model 'girlfriend'.

Fully dressed, I risk stepping into the doorway to have a look at the two of them. He hugs her so she has her back to me, indicating to the exit, my queue to leave.

I catch his eye and give him a smile on the way out.

At least we know.

{~}

When I get home Amy and the kids are already up, dressed, fed and ready for the day.

"Coffee?"

I toe off my trainers and lazily flop onto the sofa accepting her offer. Leah jumps up onto the sofa, eliciting a groan from me, where she knocks into my side. She's getting so big. She doesn't seem to notice just continues to show me how she can colour inside the lines of her colouring book. Over in the kitchen Amy tells me how she's been online and based on statistics that's dead advanced for a kid Leah's age. I may be tired, soar and a little hungover but all that is instantly washed away with the pride that swells within me.

Amy hands me my mug, settles beside me and sends Leah to her room to play.

"Good night with the mystery man, was it?" Amy teases, giving me a knowing look.

"It was okay." I take a sip of my coffee, shrugging nonchalantly, hiding my smile.

"Just okay? You walked through the door looking both exhausted and blissful. I'm surprised you can still walk.'

I can't help but gasp, jaw almost hitting the floor at Amy's blunt crudeness. We both burst into laughter, huddled together like gossiping teenagers. Now I know why she wanted Leah out of the room. 'Grown up talk'.

"Last night, it was..." I turn to face her, look her in the eye so she sees how real this is. Even if I can't tell her everything, the whole truth, I can tell her how happy I am, the most important truth. "..It was amazing."

My words don't do it justice, my limited vocabulary not accurately explaining how I feel right now. I could implode, I'm that happy.

"So he's good then?" Amy's all wide-eyed, waiting for the details of my new sex life.

I simply shake my head, she's not getting into that treasure chest.

"Ah, come on. Don't be a spoilsport."

"It isn't just the sex, it's more than that now."

"You're falling for this guy!" Amy says it in one deep breath, and it sounds less like a question and more a realisation. That this is serious.

"Yeah I am and I told him so last night, then again this morning."

I feel myself smiling at the memory.

"You two making declarations of love already? Ste I'm so happy for you..."

She leans forward, about to hug me and I don't know what happens next, but I guess my face or my body language does something to indicate that something is off. Amy stops her cooing, has a thoughtful look on her face, and wants to know what's wrong. I tell her it's nothing, everything's fine. She knows me too well, isn't buying any of it.

"He didn't say it back." I finally admit, looking down at my lap. "I was the only one making any declarations."

"Oh Ste." Her voice adopts that motherly tone, normally reserved for when Leah's fallen and scrapped her knee.

"It's fine."

"You don't have to be strong with me."

"No really, I knew he wouldn't say it back. I had hoped, yeah." After I said it the second time this morning, there was a moment when I actually thought he'd say it back. He looked at me like it was the first time he was seeing me, something had changed, but Cheryl interrupted us and the moment was lost in the mess of panic. "I guess he isn't there yet."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No, it's fine." I repeat, more adamantly this time with the best smile I can manage, it feels strained, forced. "Anyway, today is about the kids. I have the day off, and I know Lucas is a little too young yet but Leah would love that Winter Wonderland in Manchester."

"Ste there is no way we can afford that, the cost of train tickets alone is like two weeks worth of food. "

I reach into my pocket to retrieve the tips I made last night at work and shake the wad of cash in Amy's face. "Good job I'm minted then."

"Where did you get all that?"

She asks the question with a smile on here face, voice light but I can see it. The worry in her eyes, the fine lines forming on her forehead and the hesitation in her smile. She's worried that I've done something that could get me in trouble, something illegal. But this time I'd be a repeat offender and the Judge won't be so lenient, it won't be a juvenile detention centre this time either.

It hurts. But with our past being what it is, the way I treated her, all the things I did, even when I had good intentions I managed to make a mess of things, I can't blame her for doubting me.

"Tips." I tell here, never breaking eye contact. "From work."

This is obviously reassurance enough because her smile is genuine now, it's bigger and brighter. So bright it could compete with the sun, it's a rare occasion that we have almost £300 that isn't already pre-assigned to the gas bill or nappies, way before payday even comes around again.

"You made all that from the gay night at the club?"

"Yep."

"Bet all them lads couldn't get enough of you."

"What?"

"You're red! Like actually blushing!"

"Am not!" I protest, even though I am, I can feel my cheeks burning up.

"Your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard!" Amy sings, over and over.

"Stop! Stop! Ames stop!"

It's strange to think about, other men finding me attractive. I'm too skinny, too mouthy, ears stick out, Adam's apple bulges, and arms and legs are awkwardly gangly. I can't imagine that I'm that appealing to look at, still can't believe that Brendan wants me, let alone anyone else.

"No babe, I'm serious. You're gorgeous. I mean at one point I obviously thought so."

"Whatever. You know what it doesn't even matter, how or why I made it. What matters is that I've got it, and it's legal and that's why we are going to take our kids out for the greatest day they've ever had."

"Ste, I'm not sure. Shouldn't we save it, like responsible adults?"

"How often do we get to just have fun with the kids like every other family? You've been a responsible adult ever since Leah was born, making sure she never went with out. We both work really hard for them kids and I think we all deserve a day out. Let our hair down for once."

"Alright, go on then." She concedes.

{~}

Two and a half hours later we're stepping off the train at Manchester Victoria Station, asking the guy at the ticket office for directions to the park where the Winter Wonderland is held every year.

It's still early yet, not many people out so we start off slow just enjoying being togther, taking pictures and pigging out on £5-a-bag candyfloss, a luxury we would never normally indulge in. We walk through the massive Christmas market, Amy pushing the buggy and me holding Leah's hand. She buys handmade jewellery, candles made from honey and weird gadgets as Christmas presents for our friends and Amy's family.

We take Leah to see Santa and the elves and she loves it all, the circus, the sweets and especially the rides. She's getting to the age where she understand what Christmas is, impatiently counting down the days with her advent calendar. Lucas is too young to take any of it, but likes the tiny amounts of candyfloss I've been feeding him and the decorations and light that we can see when it starts to get dark seem to be good enough for the little man.

By late afternoon Leah's been on all the rides, Amy's done with shopping and Lucas has fallen asleep. She's worn out but I still want to take Leah ice-skating, it's one of the only things I can teach her. When I was a kid I found a pair of ice-skating boots at the local charity shop, had the old lady who worked there kept them back in the storeroom till I had enough to buy them. When winter came back around the pond froze over but I still hadn't save up the £4.50 and Pauline was no use, asking had earned me a slap. I went back to the store to tell the pensioner that I wouldn't be able to buy the boots and she took pity on me, paid the difference.

I taught myself. Fell over more time than I can remember but I didn't give up, didn't get frustrated like I did when I had to do homework and could never get it right. I was out there first thing every morning till late at night until I was the best kid out there, better than some of the adults even.

I know when Leah starts school and needs someone to read with, explain her maths homework or why it rains I'd be no help. She'll know then that her father is thick, no good and I won't be her hero anymore. This is something I can share with her. I can make her proud.

Leah's scared at first won't let go of the side and my hand, but picks it up quickly. She pushes around one of the plastic swans they have on the ice, laughing with some of the other kids. When she see the tricks I can do she wants to join in, so I teach her how to do a backwards swizzle and twirl her around and do some lifts. Amy watches from the sidelines, tea in hand and taking pictures with a soppy smile on her face.

{~}

We're on the train back, eating burgers, chips and hot chocolate to warm up. I had given Amy my phone at some point during the day, to take pictures and she still has it when it starts to ring.

RING. RING. RING.

I've managed to get relish over my jacket and am trying to clean it up with a ratty stray bit of tissue from my pocket so Amy answers it for me.

"Ste's phone." She smiles, still giddy from our day out.

"What?" I mouth when the smile drops.

"Work." She hands over the phone.

Work, meaning Brendan.

"Hello?" I smile.

"Steven. I know you've got the next few days off, but I could really do with you doing a few extra shifts. The clubs really busy this time of year and we could really do with an extra pair of hands around the place."

"I dunno, I wanted to spend some time with me kids."

"I get that and I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important." I can hear the frustration in his voice, can picture him sitting in his office, a lamp lighting one corner of the room, whisky in hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, you up for some overtime or not?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be in tomorrow."

"Good."

"Bye."

He's already hung up.

"What was all that about?"

"Just Brendan, needs me to do some extra shift over the next few days."

"And you said yes?" Amy ask, sounding annoyed.

"Yeah."

"It was only a few hours ago you had me phone my boss asking for time off so we could take our annual leave together, spend some time with them." She indicates to the two sleep children.

"Yeah but can we really say no to the money?"

She considers it for a moment. "Guess not. Back to being adults again then."

"It was nice while it lasted, eh?"

"I guess you can't really say no to a man like that. I know the pays good, and there always seems to be a tone of overtime-"

"Overtime", one of my go to excuses for disappearing so often.

"-But I worry about you being around him so much."

"I know what people think of him, that he's a proper psycho, but he's not like anything people say, right."

"There's definitely something off with that guy, remember that time I saw him growl and the kid that works in PriceSlice? He ain't normal, the kid was just being polite, friendly and he snaps."

I feel the need to defend him, stand up for him. Not just because people don't really know him, but also because the time will eventually come when I introduce him to Amy and I want her to like him.

"He's a dad just like me, and you can tell he loves his son and that's probably why he come over angry, or cold, or whatever, 'Cos he misses his son. I can't imagine not seeing our Leah or Lucas. And people always go on about how he's gangster or whatever but I have never seen ought dodgy, and last night it was obvious someone was dealing in the club so Jacqui tells 'im and he sorted it out."

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks?"

"You what?"

"It's Shakespeare, I think. Basically means you're trying to hard to convince me, being defensive even."

"No I ain't! He gave me chance didn't he? Right, I had no relevant experience, Tony had just fired me, and you know what everyone in the village thinks of me. But he gave me a job anyway-" Well Mitzeee technically. "-made sure I could look after the kids."

"Just be carefully, there's no smoke without fire, and I don't want anyone dragging you into anything dodgy. You should do your job and keep well clear."

"Right. Yeah."

{~}

Haven taken a couple days off from work, Amy takes the kids back to Manchester to visit her dad. I'll miss them but it's fine, working double overtime at the club I won't even be around much. Meaning I have the place to myself, and when the three of them head out to the bus stop I text Brendan to let him know I'm alone.

Forty minutes later I'm opening the front door to a very horny Irishman. Brendan's stood in the doorway to my flat, dressed in a three-piece black suit, yellow shirt, and black tie. I would have asked about the change in attire – the tie and the waistcoat – but he has the door shut and me pushed up against in a flash, his lips claiming mine, hand straight down my joggers.

"Wait, wait." I say, breathlessly pushing him away.

"What?" He asks.

He doesn't actually stop, just moves to kiss my jaw and neck so my mouth is free for talking. But when he's sucking on my neck, licking a wet path up it like that, I can't concentrate, I've lost the ability to form a concise sentence. I'm weak all over.

"Brendan." I manage to get out. "Seriously."

He stops his movements and looks me in the eye.

"What is it?" He sounds exasperated, fed up.

"That's not why I texted for you to come over."

"It's not?" he asks confused, looks almost like he doesn't believe me.

'Amy and the kids gone 2 her dads 4 a couple of days. Place 2 myself, u free?' I can see why he though that all I wanted was another one of our sex sessions.

"Well not just that, I though I could cook breakfast first and we could finish our conversation from yesterday morning?"

"Conver… Oh."

"Oh?"

"I don't really have time." He looks down at his watch. "I've got a really busy day, should have left for the city already."

"Right."

"We can do this now, and all the others stuff - the talking - later."

"Sure." I nod.

Or we could talk now? We don't actually have to jump each other's bones every time we meet up.

He resumes his previous actions, rubbing my dick, his touch gentle. When I look into his eyes and see the want, the want that is there every time he looks at me, I am still to this day shocked by it. Brendan wants me, and his desire is like the catalyst to my libido. My body responds to his stimulation, nipples stiffen, and my dick gets rock hard very fast.

As a child my biggest weakness was and still is, a desperate need to be wanted. With Brendan it's different to how I needed me Mam, Terry or my dad to want me. I crave Brendan's desire and when I get it, that lust, I always give him what he wants.

Every second of everyday I itch for his affection and approval, so when I get it I give in completely, forgetting breakfast and thoughts of talking.

Brendan's free hand begins to stroke my chest, runs his nails across my prominent nipples repeatedly, making circles around each one. I push my crotch into his other hand, his gentleness turns into desperation, and his breathing is heavier and inconsistent against the side of my face.

Brendan steps away from me, removing his suit jack and neatly folding it and placing it over one of the dining table chairs. When he comes back to the hall, I haven't moved a muscle, couldn't even if I had wanted. He looks smug, revels in the knowledge that I'm a mess already.

He warns me not to get any come on his suit before dropping to his knees and pulling down my jogging bottoms and boxers. My eyes are squeezed shut in anticipation, not knowing where he'll start the pleasurable assault of my body only heightens the sensation.

I involuntary jerk when I feel the warm, wet feeling of Brendan's flat tongue slowly moving across every inch of my balls. His tongue slides from the base of my cock up to the throbbing tip. The hotness of his mouth sends a sensation through my body that forces my eyes wide open. It's fascinating watching him taking me down, him on his knees to suck me off. He slides up and down my cock so effortlessly, skilfully and with such hunger.

I normally relinquish control, let him have it, Brendan sets the pace, the rhythm and how deep he takes me. Today I place my hand on the back of his head, run my fingers through his hair and push all the way down his throat, thrusting it deep into his mouth. I hold him there, can feel his hot breath on my pubic hair and skin. He seems even more turned on now, each time I thrust into his mouth he groans a little.

I let go and he continues going up and down on my shaft, fast, periodically taking me all the way down. He pulls on my ass so that I'm fucking his face again, using a finger to lightly rub and tease at my entrance.

I hear myself moaning at the feeling of my tip brushing against the back of his throat, its loud and harsh, uncontrollably. It hits me like a tidal wave, the merciless sucking and teasing of my hole take me over the edge and my body shakes with an orgasm. My muscles ripple and quiver as the climax spread through me and my load erupts into Brendan's mouth.

I cover my eyes, letting out short heavy breaths as I try and recover. After a while my tracksuit bottoms are being pulled up for me and a fleeting kiss is pressed on my lips.

"I'll see you at work."

I open my eyes to see Brendan in his suite jacket again, readjusting his lapels and fixing his hair in the mirror.

"You're going already?"

"Like I said, short on time."

"You don't want me to, you know, return the favour?"

"Later, right now my lawyer awaits."

One more peck is placed on my lips and he's out the door.

I fall back against the door, flushed, and still not yet fully recovered. The whole memory of the experience that happened not 2 minutes ago is anything but clear to me. Being with Brendan is comparable to being woken from a deep sleep and wanting to get back to your sweet dreams. Only, I haven't been asleep and it isn't a dream. This is really happening, it's reality.

My life is this perfect.

{~}

Brendan was right the club is crazy busy, the crowd queing around the bar is six people deep. Pretty much every member of staff is here but we still can't keep up.

Eventually Brendan comes in, out of the suite and wearing all black, jeans and a fitted jumper. Cheryl's hot on his tail, trying to get him to listen to whatever she's saying. He's clearly ignoring her, she's either choosing to ignore this or is completely unaware and just keeps talking. He pushes up his sleeves and starts to serve, turning away from her.

Whenever I get close enough I pick bits and pieces of their conversation, she's going home, back to Ireland for Christmas and New Years wants her brother to come. He clearly doesn't want to go, again she's either choosing to ignore this or is oblivious to it.

"It's been eleven months since you've seen Declan, Bren, he must be so confused by all of this. I'm sure Eileen's missing you too."

"She say that?" He asks, scepticism in his voice.

"No." She draws out the one sailable word, knows she's been caught out. "Not exactly."

"Not at all then?"

"I'm sure she does, but if you don't talk and don't see each other how are you ever going to sort this out?"

"We're not."

"Right, Mitzeee." Cheryl spits.

"No, not Mitzeee. I mean yeah her, but me and Eileen it's not going to happen. It's been over for a long time."

It's surprises me, the little tinge of happiness I get when he says this. A marriage is over, a family has been broke up and a kid doesn't see his dad, yet I'm pleased. Brendan and Eileen where just kids when they got together, married and with a kid so young, there must have been something there are one point, something real. Sometimes I can't help but think it might not really be over, especially because he hasn't said why it ended and Cheryl doesn't even seem to know.

"But-" She stutters.

"No buts Chez, Eileen doesn't want me anywhere near that house."

"Wait, you mean she's stopping you from going home? From seeing Deccy?"

Brendan doesn't answer.

"She can't, you have rights Bren. I can' believe she's doing this, after everything you've been through."

The Irish woman is normally bubbly and full of joy but now she's seething, I've never seen her like this. Brendan doesn't take any notice, remains non-responsive, keeps pouring drinks.

"I always knew that woman was a heartless bitch." She continues to rage. "After everything you've done for that her, given up for her. I mean she's living in your house and spending your money, hasn't worked a day in her life."

"It's her house, she can do what ever she wants." He sighs, rubbing his temple.

"You've signed over the house? You have, haven't you? Of course you have!" She flails her arms, exasperated. "You were always too much of a sweetheart for your own good." She tells him, rubbing his arm.

"The kids need a home." Brendan coughs, physically tenses and shakes her off. "Declan, Declan needs a home, a stable home and that's with his Ma."

"Fine, well we can go to dads instead. When's the last time you even saw him? I know he misses you like mad, we can have a proper Brady Christmas, the three of us."

"Chez." Brendan shouts, stops what he's doing and finally looking at her. "Do you actually plan on doing any work tonight?"

"Bren?" Cheryl's voice quivers, she looks shocked, not used to her brother's aggression being directed at her.

There's a tick in his cheek, his shoulders are hunched over and he can't stop fidgeting, stroking his moustache, scratching his eyebrow. When he speaks his voice is subdue and he can't look her in the eye. "The downstairs bar could do with some help."

{~}

I leave it for a bit, give him time to cool down before approaching him, but eventually I just can't stay away.

"You alright?"

"Never better." It's sarcastic, fake tight smile to match.

"Right because before… with your Cheryl, things seemed intense."

I look around to see if anyone is looking in our direction, but everyone's either too busy pulling drinks or getting drunk to take any notice. I cover his hand, take it in mine and squeeze it reassuringly. He takes a deep breath, and then looks me in the eye before shaking me off.

"Can I have a word with you?"

"Sure."

"In private."

He's walking down the steps to the cellar before I even have time to answer, I give it a few minutes before following him down. When I get down there Brendan's rearranging the stock, doesn't turn to face me. It's weird.

"Everything alright?" I ask.

He just keeps stacking crates, crates that don't really need to be moved and makes a sound that I assume means yes, everything is alright. But it's obviously not.

"Just… you're being kinda funny."

"Everything's fine."

"What Cheryl was saying, you're not really going to spend Christmas alone?"

"Looks that way."

He's lining up bottles on the shelf now.

"You could always…" My brain catches up with my mouth just in time and I stop speaking.

"Always what?" He asks.

"Never mind, it were silly."

"Steven, spit it out."

"You could always spend Christmas with us."

"And why would I do a thing like that?" He's looking at me now, just inches away, accent thick, cruel smirk on his face.

"You shouldn't be alone, no one likes being alone for Christmas, do they? And because of us, you know…"

"No I don't know. Remind me."

"You know… after the other night… I just thought-" I'm tripping over my words.

"Thought what?"

"What I said, how I feel about you and the things you said… I'm mean things 'ave been going well. Like progressing, right?"

"Have they now? So what, me, you, Amy and the kids crowded around your fold out table, sprouts, crackers, the works?" He mocks.

"All right, no need to have a go."

"This master plan of yours, how do we explain this to people? Me having Christmas dinner with one of my barmen."

"But I'm not just one of your barmen, am I?"

"No?"

"No, and I mean only Amy would have to know right and she'd be dead cool with it all."

"She'd be cool with it?" He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Bren, we're going to have to start telling people eventually."

"Telling people what exactly? Steven, we both know what this is."

"Brendan, I love you and if we're going to be together, a couple then… then"

"Then what, Steven!" He barks, spit flying. "You know what, I can't keep having this conversation with you."

"What conversation?"

"The one where you tell me about how in love you think you are. What do you think is happening here, Steven? That we're going to be gay lovers. Walking through the village hand-in-hand, kissing under mistletoe, drinking sherry and sharing mince pie?"

"Why are you always like this, eh? The other night you said that you cared about me, that you didn't want to hurt me. You were jealous, the thought of me with other men obviously drives you crazy."

"Don't like sharing my toys."

"Don't you try an' tell me that this is just sex, that you don't care because the other night you said you cared. You said it, and you show me that you do all the time. You make me happy. We make each other happy, more than happy right, and I know you must feel it, the connection between us."

"You done?"

He looks bored. I'm trying to talk to him but he's looking right through me, there must be something more interesting on the wall behind me.

"Yeah, we're done."

{~}

As I walk up the cellar stairs, through the crowd and out the doors of the clubs I can feel the tears prickling down my face.


	16. Chapter sixteen

 

Steven doesn't turn up for work, is scheduled to do overtime but he's a no show. At first I assume, tell myself he's just running late. He's normally early, has never actually been late before but there's a first time for everything.

Forty-five minutes after his shift was supposed to start, and I'm starting to think perhaps he's deliberately late. Trying to teach me a lesson, get back at me after the argument last night. Two hours pass and still he hasn't turned up, fed up of waiting for him I pull on my winter coat and walk the fifteen minutes to the council estate.

"What do you want?" He spits, when he sees it's me standing on his doorstep.

His eyes are red and puffy, the skin around it looks dark. He's been crying.

Tear stained cheeks and a slight muffle to his voice, it's obvious but Steven's a proud person, wouldn't want attention drawn to it and so I don't mention it. "You didn't turn up for your shift."

His arms are crossed, a defensive scowl planted on his face and eyebrows arched, sassy and child-like. It's moments like this that I remember just how young he is. Behind it all, the valiant teen father who works his fingers to the bone, providing for his a family, Steven is still only a kid himself.

"I have a week off." He tells me, says it like I'm stupid, like I've forgotten his annual leave, like he hadn't agreed to do extra shifts regardless.

"Then you agreed to do overtime." I remind him.

"Well this is my prearrange holiday time, I'm entitled to it. By law."

"Someone's been on the internet." I joke trying to lighten the mood.

He doesn't find it funny.

"You can't force me to work when I've booked annual leave." He's taken a professional tone, it's distant, like all we are employer and employee. Cold almost.

"Right."

"That the only reason you came around?" I see cracks begin to appear in his mask, vulnerability and hope shiny through.

"Yeah." Because what else does he expect from me?

"Well if that's it, I have things to get back to." Mask polished and back in place. He closes the door on me, just to pull it open seconds later. "Actually, I'll be taking Christmas and New Years off. I'll be back at the start of the New Year."

"That's not for another three weeks."

"Yeah well I think I've earned it, don't you? Oh and it'll be paid leave."

"Steven-" I start to argue.

"That's all I have to say."

"Steven." His name leaves my lips again, sounds more like a plea.

"I'll see you in three weeks."

The door closes in my face again, this time it doesn't reopen.

{~}

It's only been six days, barley a week since the day we stood in the doorway to his flat. And I'm already longing to feel his heat, his lips pressed firmly against mine, the tight embrace of his arms.

I've seen him since then, the very next morning, hungover walking down the steps from my flat. Steven was coming out of PriceSlice, bag of shopping in hand, he stops momentarily and we just stare at each other, and I want to do something, say something, but then he walks away.

{~}

I find myself counting down. Ten day since we were last together, our bodies intertwined. Four days since he walked straight by me, like strangers in the street. Eleven days until he'll be back at work.

When did this skinny boy get under my skin? An insatiable itch.

Eventually I give in and call him, have an excuse ready – something about tax codes. I'd say: "Just making sure you're not being under-taxed, you don't want to have to pay it all bake in a few months".

He doesn't answer.

I call again two days later, then the day after that, then an hour after that. Still, I get no answer, no return to my miss calls, just the ringing followed by his voicemail.

"Hey it's Ste! Leave a message and if your important enough I'll get back to ya!"

He never does.

{~}

It's Christmas Eve. This is normally my favorite time of year, even as a boy, not even Seamus could put a damper on my Christmas cheer. But this year I'm sat alone in my crapped, dimly lite office, alone, my hand griping a tumbler of whiskey like it's a newborn child.

Cheryl is off visiting our Da and her family for a week, she tells me that Eileen and Declan are with her mother and Steven, Steven hasn't spoken to me in thirteen days.

It may be masochistic but I can't help but reminisce over the joys of Christmas past. Not last year, because my life had already been ripped apart before the last Christmas I spent with my family. But the five we had before that, just me, Eileen and Declan.

You'd think it be Eileen, but it was always me who decorated the Christmas tree, hung a garland on the front door, tinsel on the mantelpiece and flashing lights on the roof. I unashamedly took a great amount of joy and time making our house looking like some cheap Santa's grotto. _"Tacky tat"_ Eileen would laugh every year as I admired the masterpiece, her eyes bright with fondness.

The bottle of whiskey is empty and I'm not nearly drunk enough, thoughts of the past, Ireland and… and Steven, still swimming around my head. I walk through to the bar, it's a lot quieter than it was the weeks leading up to Christmas. A Christmas Hits CD playing softly in the background, a rowdy office party in a corner, a few lonely punters nursing their drinks and Jacqui manning the bar a lone.

The club won't be open again until New Years Eve so she's doing a finial clean, rearranging and sweeping the stockroom, filling shelves, throwing out any perishables. Steven's meant to be here, helping her, ironically doing all the heavy lifting.

I imagine he would have stayed behind, our bodies sweat slicked, his hair plastered down, my breath heavy. Then he would have trotted home in the early house of Christmas morning, lips plump and hair ruffled, well and truly fucked.

Anger begins to build within me, starts in my chest, radiating throughout my body. Because when call time comes, doors locked behind the last customer it won't be Steven waiting for me but Jacqui McQueen. Waiting for a hand to stack bar stools and move the sofas to the edge of the room so the floor and can be swept, mopped and polished.

So when I turn to see judgment clear in her eyes at the sight of me necking whiskey straight form the bottle, lashing out, taunting her seems like the most logical thing to do.

I put the bottle down and run my index finger along the length of the bar

"Look at this, see it?" I ask, rubbing non-existent grime between my fingers. "Call this cleaning up?"

I cock my head to the side, regarding her impatiently. But Jacqui isn't easily shaken or intimidated.

"I did it how I've done it every other time before." She argues, throwing the cloth to the side.

"Well maybe now it isn't good enough, do it again."

Her temper's also flaring up, she's had enough of my mood. I know I've been making the lives of my bar staff miserable for weeks. Two weeks, to be exact. She looks about ready to start in on me, that is until she doesn't. This mouthy barmaid, hair slicked back in a high ponytail, knee high boots now has understanding in here eyes, a small sympathetic smile on her lips.

"Want to talk about it?" She asks.

She pities me, the opposite of what I want, what I need right now. I want to argue, to rage, to have this out with someone, anyone.

"Though that's what we were doing, talking."

"No, you're ranting. If you want talk about whatever's been going on with you, I'm a good listener."

"Yeah? Because that's what I'm going to do, spill the contents of my tortured heart to the slapper barmaid."

"I don't have to put up with this." She tells me, untying the apron from around her waist. "I actually have people to go home to. Just because you'r alone doesn't mean you can take it out on me. Your staff aren't here to be verbal punching bags." She's shouting raging at me while collecting her belongings from under the bar. "No wonder Ste's left." Are her parting words before storming out of the fire exit.

I close the club early, screaming for everyone to leave, get out, grab the whiskey bottle and take root on the sofa in the middle of the club. I'm going to keep drinking until I forget, drink myself numb, until my soul rips in two. The Brendan Brady that cares and hurts and can't forget, the one that can't let go, that man won't be me. Maybe at the bottom of another bottle that man will me nothing but a version of me living in a parallel universe that I can close the door on.

{~}{~}{~}{~}{~}

After spending the night with her dad, Amy and the kids return early on Christmas morning. I was up at the crack of dawn, barley a wink of sleep, couldn't get the image of Brendan alone out of my head. Cheryl in Belfast, Mitzeee spending the day with the Costello's, nothing but a Chinese takeaway for Christmas dinner. But he's not my problem, not anymore.

Instead of lying in bed thinking of a man I shouldn't be thinking of, a man that - probably - isn't thinking of me, I get myself up and get the house ready. I clean the place from top to bottom, the taps still leaking, wallpaper peeling off the walls, second hand-dated furniture and a underlying smell of mold that not even febreze or glade can get rid of. But it's our home, and we keep it clean and tidy - most of the time - and I'm proud of it, the home Amy and I have built for our kids.

After cleaning I do all the prep, ready for dinner, peal the spuds, clean the sprouts and season the tiny turkey. Everything's perfect. I make sure Leah and Amy's stockings are filled to the brim and wrap the extra presents I picked up last night. There's a plastic bag in the corner of my room where I keep sellotape, wrapping paper and the gift I bought for Brendan.

It's just a moustaches shaped egg fryer that I picked up at the Winter Wonderland when Amy's back was turned. I had completely forgotten about it, already wrapped with a ribbon and gift tag stuck on top. I was going to find an excuse to pop round on Christmas day, today, take him left over turkey, make sure he's okay.

Now I don't know what to do, haven't spoken to him in over two weeks. After leaving the club in tears and going home to an empty flat I completely broke down. This man that I've had some of the best nights of my life with, makes me happier than anyone has ever made me feel, showed me my true self, is like a natural disaster tearing be apart from the inside out.

Amy phoned later that night, Leah wanted to say goodnight and I couldn't catch my breath. I was hiccupping, trying to push down the sobs but Amy could tell something was wrong. I told her what was going on, because Amy always knows what to say, knows what to do to make things better. She told me that he, whoever he was, either didn't appreciate me or just wasn't ready yet, didn't know how to be in an open gay relationship.

She suggested that I separate myself from him, that way he'd have a chance to miss me, miss what we have. And I could I take some space, figure out if he's worth waiting around for, because the reality is he may never commit and I might just keep getting hurt.

So I told him that I'd changed my mind, I was taking my annual leave, in fact I'd be off work for the rest of the year. Three weeks, that would be enough time to sort out my head without having to see him everyday at work, distracting me, tempting me back. And just maybe he'd realise that he does cares for me… or not, maybe he wouldn't even notice my absence from his life.

So the next day when I see him in the village, I walked straight past him. His skin is as pale as I've ever seen it, bags under his eyes, hair unstyled, some how still as beautiful as ever.

I though that maybe I did this to him, that me being cold and closed off, giving him a taste of is own medicine had had that effect on him, drove him to drink. His eyes looked haunted, like he had the weight on the world on his shoulders, and I wanted to take him in my arms, take the pain away.

That's when it hits me, it's him who's holding me down, keeping me grounded to the earth. Without even realising it, I'd made myself a miniature satellite, made someone else my gravity. Brendan's at the center of my universe, constantly wondering is he okay? Does he miss me? Does he want me? Does he need me?

I knew then I had to be strong, stay away, before I lost myself completely and so I keept on walking, walked straight past him.

That's why, when Amy bundles the kids into the flat on Christmas morning, I'm stood at the kitchen sink crying my eyes out, clutching an unopened novelty present.

Amy's a little frantic, obviously stressed and just calls out a _"hiya"_ and then puts Lucas to bed. When she returns to the kitchen she wishes me a Merry Christmas accompanied by a kiss on the cheek and Leah hugs my leg before toddling off.

I don't turn around, maneuver my body so my face is always out of sight, don't want Amy or Leah to see my red eyes and tear-damp lashes. Amy sits on the counter nibbling on the carrots, tells my how expensive the cab ride down was, being Christmas day, Lucas wouldn't stop crying and Leah was over excited.

I busy my self with checking on the turkey, putting the potatoes in the oven to roast, responding with fake enthusiasm when needed.

"Ste."

"Ste!"

"STE!"

Somewhere in my subconscious I'm aware of Amy calling out to me, but it's like I'm under water and she's so far away. I'm frantically looking through the cardboards and drawers for the gravy granules but I can't find it anywhere. Maybe we didn't buy any, I can't remember. Fuck it, I'll just make it from scratch, I am a chef - was a chef.

I get out a large pot, stuff for stock, and then get a bag of flour that somehow ends on the floor, white powder everywhere.

"STEVEN!" She shouts, spinning me around to face her.

Amy gasps, hand covering her mouth. She asks, _"have you been crying? What's happened?"_ I tell her to _"shut up"_ , laughing a little try and brush her off, but I can see she's not buying it. I deflated, physically shrinking, say _"I'm fine, it's fine"._

It will all be fine.

"This about that guy of yours?"

I nod, using the sleeve of my hoody to wipe away the tears that are starting to fall again.

"Oh Ste." She sighs, cocooning me in a tight hug.

{~}

After standing in a heap of flour, Amy hugging me tight, me sobbing on her shoulder like one of the children. She tells me to _"put your coat on"_ , sets Leah up with one of her presents and breakfast, then we head outside. Sit in the front garden on this frosty morning with a couple of large mugs of hot chocolate, marshmallows and all.

"You know letting him trample all over your heart, giving it to him to stand on, won't make him a man, the man you deserve, just a taller boy."

"I know." I whimper.

"Then why do you stay with him, if this is what he does to you?"

"Because I love him. Because I can't see straight when I'm with him, I can't see anything when I'm not."

"Ste, this guy he's messing with you head."

"But if you can love someone and keep loving them, even without them loving you back then it has to be real love, right? It hurts too much to be anything else."

Amy looks at me, so much pity in her eyes and I can't take it, I look away, up at the grey sky, hands fiddling with dew-covered blades of grass. This secret that I'm keeping is becoming too heavy for me to carry around alone. I can feel the strain, heavy on my psyche.

I need to tell someone about this, I need someone in my life that I can turn to, to talk to. Then I look over at the woman sat next to me, Amy Barnes, my best friend, the mother of my children. Eyes filled deep with wisdom beyond her eighteen years, convictions strong enough to stand on, and the toughest person I've ever met. If I was going to tell anyone it would be Amy Barnes.

So, with a sigh of relief I just start talking. All of it, from start to end.

{~}{~}{~}{~}{~}

Eileen calls first thing Christmas morning, haven't spoken to her since the night I left. I went to the house one last time to say goodbye, told her I was moving to England and didn't know when, or if I'd be back but I'd send money.

It takes me by surprise, how good it feels to hear her voice, the only contact we've had in eleven months being through my lawyer about the transfer of the house. For a long time she was the closest person to me, knew me better than most or as well as anyone could really know me, she was my best friend. Her tone may be cold and she ignores my wishes of a merry Christmas but the familiarity of it is nice, comforting.

"Declan wants to speak to his father, you have five minutes."

"Daddy!"I hear my boy scream, full of excitement a few seconds later.

"Hey, Deccy. Merry Christmas, mate."

"Thank you for the Super Mario and Sonic the Hedgehog games, they're awesome."

"Glad you liked it son, having a good day?"

"Yep, we're playing Just Dance 4. Me, Stella, Paul and Uncle Kevin against Auntie Sally, Mum, Jimmy and Danny, even Granny had a few goes. We're trashing them."

"Sounds like everyone's there."

"Yeah, 'cept you of course and cousin Macca."

"You see much of cousin Macca?"

"No, he doesn't live here no more either."

"In Ireland?" He hasn't even finished high school yet, the only explanation for him moving away is that Eileen told her family. But she wouldn't, at least I don't think so. "Do'u know where he's gone to? If he'll be back?"

"Daddy, mummy's saying I gotta go now."

"Right. Well, we'll speak soon, yeah."

"No! I want you to come home daddy." He's getting himself worked up, starting to cry. "When are you coming home? I miss you."

"I miss you too, son." It breaks my heart to hear him so upset, to be the reason for it but I can't promise I'll be back.

"And you have to come back, the chain on my bike needs fixing. Uncle Mike tried but he couldn't do it."

"Uncle mike?" Eileen comes from a large family, she's one of six, and then there's the aunts, uncles and cousins. I never bothered learning half their names, but I'm certain I've never met an Uncle Mike.

"Yeah, he's mum's special friend. Daddy I have to go now, I love you."

"Love you too son."

"Brendan?" Eileen's back on the line.

"Yeah I'm still here." I answer after a pause, surprised she didn't just end the call once Declan returned the phone. "He seems, like he's coping."

"Yeah he is, but he shouldn't have to cope, it's a shame you didn't take our son into concideraton while leading your double life."

"I was not leading a double life Eileen, I explained what happened."

"And I'm supposed to believe a word that comes out of your mouth?"

"You always were self-righteous, St. Eileen Jane. You're _"special friend Uncle Mike"_ , that the same Michael Donovan that was always hanging around? How long before I was on the ferry before you shacked up with him?"

"How dare you?" She hisses outraged. "That's none of your concern, you don't get an opinion. Not after what you did with my teenaged cousin."

"If he's in my son's life then it's entirely my concern."

"I don't see how, when you're not even in your son's life." It's not a spiteful comeback, carefully chosen words to deliver the biggest blow. It's just the truth, her voice filled with sorrow more than anything else.

"You're right, I was just feeling sorry for myself."

"You were always good at that." She thawing.

"Thanks for calling Eileen, I really appreciate it."

"You. Appreciate. It?" She bites out, empathising each word and I'd recognise that tone anywhere. She's going to rip me a new one. "You are not putting this on me, Brendan Brady." She's in a different room now, the low hum of here family members no longer in the background. "It was your choice to do what you did, then your choice to run away and not even a call. You've left you son without a father because you're a coward, because you can't face us. So don't you dare thank me like I've been keeping him from you."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just phone once in a while. I may not be ready to see you but Declan needs you, he's already lost one too many people he can't lose you too."

"I am sorry, for everything Eileen." It's all I can bring myself to say, because I don't think I ever said it. But I am, I'm sorry for it all.

"Look after yourself Brendan."

"Yeah, give Deccy m-"

The sound of the dial tone stops me from finishing my sentence.

{~}

The rest of Christmas day goes by in a blur of whiskey, whatever crap specials that are on BBC1 and a greasy Chinese takeaway for dinner. Blood now more ethanol than plasma fluid, belly full of special fried rice, made with turkey chunks, and a mind burdened with regrets I pass out on the sofa.

Somehow managing to sleep for more than twelve hours, I wake up late St. Stephen's Day afternoon - Boxing Day I guess - with my mouth smelling and feeling like something died in it. I brush my teeth, take a shower, clean up my stubble and gulp down a strong coffee to sober myself up.

I spend the day getting the flat in order for Cheryl's return, dishes, hovering and airing the place out to get rid of the lingering smell of sweet and sour chicken.

When she comes though the door a whirlwind of colour and cheer it's a breath of fresh air. She brings with her left over turkey and Baileys' marble cheesecake and tales of Belfast. Harsh winter, she ate more potatoes in one week than she has all year round, the market stall boys still have gift of the gab, could charm the knickers off a nun.

Over turkey gravy sandwiches, conversation gradually gets more serious. Her best friend Lynsey has shacked up with Malachy Fisher, apparently my sister's not bothered, I can't figure out why either of them would give the waster a second glance. Our father, as always is a joy to be around, missing me greatly he claims. Declan has grown so much, even in the few weeks since she has been gone.

{~}

Life gets back to normal. It's the weird time between Christmas and New Years when half the population have time of work and decided to live outside their finical means. The club keeps up busy, filled to capacity before half nine, not a minute to take a breath or to think.

Steven is still not here, busiest week of the year, New Year's Eve and my best barman is on annual leave.

Not quite back to normal.

{~}

"Douglas, to what do I owe this pleasure? Here to pay off your debt?"

"What? No."

It's New Year's Eve and are our normal supplier says there's a problem, they've over supplied. No champaign, vodka, Jack Daniel's or the fruity, sugar loaded stuff teens like. Then the fuse box blew up, literally exploded and ever opportunist electrician from here to Holt is charging extortionate prices. I can't open a club on New Year's Eve with no Booz, lights or music.

So what I don't need right now, is a bubbling Douglas Carter standing on my doorstep, over excessive eyebrow and all.

"Well you better have a good reason for being at my front door at..." I look down at my watch because I honestly have no idea what time it is. "...seven fifteen in the morning?"

Crap I've been awake for almost twenty four hours. Spent the day looking for a supplier that still had stock, the evening taking quotations from electricians and the night drowning my problems in whiskey.

"I couldn't sleeps, so I went for a walk to clear my head and then I saw that your lights were on."

"Thought you'd come over for a nice chat and a cup of cocoa?" I'm drunk and tired, Cheryl says the combination makes me grouchy, Eileen said it brought my inner asshole out. Either way it doesn't play out well for the moron knocking at my door before the sun's even risen.

"No, it's just that it's eating me up inside. I can't cope, every time I close my eyes I see her face. And there's going to be an inverstigation right? What if the cops trace it back to us? I can't do jail time."

"Investigation? What the fuck are you on about?"

"Didn't you read the paper?"

Reading the local rag was the last thing on my mind this morning, or yesterday morning but I did catch a glance of the headlines before my day turned to absolute shite.

"Yeah, global warming causing drastic weather changes, teen pop star pictured with prostitute and local druggie student plummets to her death."

"She wasn't a druggie!" The yank shouts, exploding in my face.

I put my hand on his chest pushing out of the doorway and against the brick wall, closing the door behind me. I don't need my sister waking up to find the local drug dealer in our front room.

"Don't tell me you knew her. Do not, please, do not tell me you sold to her?"

"She's my friend." He starts to cry, stiffing and rubbing the tears away. " _Was_ my friend, my flat mate. Her parents are coming down later to collect her things, how am I going to face them?"

"Kid you need to sort yourself out!" He's falling apart, I don't need a liability on my hands. "Pull yourself together!"

"How can I, when this was all my fault? We did this to her Brendan."

"I get it, you feel guilty, because what type of person dishes out drugs to their mates? But dispite you being a lousy friend, this is not your fault, and defiantly ain't mine. She sought out drugs and paid for them, she did this to herself. This isn't on you kid."

"No it's is, you don't understand."

"What did you do?" I question, because I can tell now that there's something he hasn't told me.

"There have been others, having bad reaction, hallucination, almost overdosing."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"It was only like five or six people, ten tops… and no body died. Didn't think it was a big deal."

"Ten people in a couple of months, not a big deal?" Is he an absolute moron?

"I just thought they were taking too much or something. But the stuff we're selling it shouldn't be having this affect, people seeing monsters and thinking they can fly to the moon. What if it's laced with something?"

_Danny._

"First of all it's the stuff _you_ were selling, you never mention my name. The name Brendan Brady is never to be mentioned along side the to topic of drugs. You understand?" He nods. "I want to hear you say it."

"You're not involved." He looks terrified. "In fact I don't even know you."

Considering the circumstances I can't fully appreciate the wobble in his voice and how comical it is.

"Good. Now go home and Flush any of the stash you have left, all of it. Take this." I take out the wad of money in my trouser and slide it into the top pocket of his shirt. "Use this to buy tickets for an in impromptu visit back to the states. Because if that girls parents see you they're going to know something is up."

The boy nods, returning to his flat across the balcony, obviously flustered. But as long as he's away from here, on a plane back to the states I don't have to worry.

I pull out my phone and spend the next hour on the phone to all the dealers I have in all the surroundings towns and city. Tell them the police are sniffing around, to dump everything and delete my number from their phones, not to contact me again.

{~}

I decided to not open the club, it's just one thing after another, like the universe is telling me not to bother. Cheryl's happy at least, night off counting in the new year at the pub. I decline her invitation and then Anne's, opting to spend the night installing a new fuse box myself. If I'm closing my doors on the most profitable night of the year I'm going to save some money elsewhere.

I have my back to him, connecting the final few wires when I hear his footsteps making their way down the steps to the cellar. For a second I think it might be someone else, let myself hope. But I recognise the solid, slow click-clack of expensive Italian leather shoes against concrete.

I'm not even surprised, I should have been expecting a visit from him.

"Danny." I greet.

"Peculiar night to close the club. You may lack the wisdom that comes with age, but you always where a clever lad, surely you see what bad business practice that is."

I pick up a couple of beers, handing him one a take a seat on a stack of crates, may as well get comfortable.

"Supplier fell through, hardly a drop of liquor in the place."

"You should have called, I'm always here to help you Brendan."

He sounds sincere, like he genuinely wants to help an old friend but I know Danny, can see through he's well developed façade. Nothing is ever free, not even the simplest of favours. I already owe this psychopath, I don't need to add to it.

"Power's out too, I decided to give myself a break. Take a night off."

"Yet here I find you, taking on a DIY project? You never did know how to relax."

"I'll relax when I'm dead."

"My sentiment exactly, I knew we were on the same page. So you can understand my confusion when I discovered product isn't being distributed."

I shift, it's been less than twelve hours, and for a second I think how does he know? But of course he knows, Danny Huston has eyes everywhere.

"What, you think my product suddenly isn't on the market and I don't hear about it?" He asks obviously reading my mind. "Clubs all over Chester dry on New Year's Eve, no happy time pills to keep their eyes rolling back in their skulls for days."

"But those _'happy time pills'_ do a little more than heighten your senses and the lines those kids are snorting are cut with a little more than powdered milk."

"What are you accusing me of exactly?"

Danny feigns hurt, mocking me because we both know exactly what he has been doing.

"A girl is dead."

"That's really not my problem. And in all honestly I'm surprised you've given it a second thought. What is it you used to say?" He asks putting down his untouched drink. "Heart attacks, suicides, od's, people who get messed up so much they fall over but don't get back up. You put them in hospital." He points accusingly, steps forward. "Never once did you bat an eyelids, because it was their choice."

"I wasn't cutting drugs with other drugs. They got what they asked for and the risks where there's to take."

"You Brendan Brady don't even take cough medicine but, deal in Class A's and somehow you think it makes you better than a dope fiend? Better than me?"

"Better than you? Yes! You had me selling oxi! That stuff is four times as powerful as cocaine."

"And only a fraction of the price." He croons.

Of course.

He has a quarter of the students in the village on a highly addictive hallucinogenic drug in order to cut down on costs.

"You had them almost over dosing because they didn't know what they were taking. But not all of them, one girl was lucky enough not to overdose, but then again she thought she could fly and fell to her death." I argue back, getting in his face.

"You really give a fuck that she died? What's happened to you? When did a conscience ever get in the way of making money?" Danny questions, dumbfounded.

"When you intentionally started hurting kids."

"Can you really afford to give up this side venture, are you that rich?"

"More things to life than money. Like that girls parents, starting a new year and their daughter's just gone, just not here anymore."

"I'm speechless. Big bad, psycho, thug Brendan Brady's gone soft. What's happened to you?"

His entire demeanor has changed, crowding in close to me, hand on my shoulders, I think I can actually see concern in his eye.

"It's that kid, your dirty little secret." It's not a question, more like realisation. "He's gotten to you, in there." He taps at my temple. "I had high hopes for you, thought you'd eventually become my right hand. Now look at you, crying over some spotty teen that spilled the contents of her brain all over the pavement. All because of that chavy barman."

I don't give him the satisfaction of an answer, simply roll my eyes. The very idea of it, that Steven's changed me, softened my hearty, it's absurd. I have a child myself, I have common human compassion, and purposely putting an unknowing kid in danger for money sickens me. It does now and it would have three months ago.

"You don't even see it, do you?"

"Nothing to see Danny. I'm out, that's it."

"Fine I'm going. But when I'm done here, I think I'll pay your little friend a visit. You know, out of sight, out of mind." And now he's smiling at me, so wide I can practically see all thirty-two of his pearly whites. "You'll get back to normal, and it will be business as usual."

I don't even have to think about it, my body reacts to his words of it's own accord. A combination of my autonomic and sympathetic nervous system goes into overdrive, combustion leading to involuntary actions.

Heart rate accelerates, adrenaline rushing through my endocrine system and then there's the choice, fight or flight?

I see it in bursts, intersected by flashes of Steven, memories of our time spent together. It's an outer body experience, as if I'm standing in the corner of the room watching a person I have not seen before. Because it cannot be me taking a life into my hands and snubbing it out.

The hammer is in my hand, a look of absolute surprise on his face, knowing it's the last thing he expects, the last thing either of us expects to happen. Then there's the blood, spraying across the walls and on the bottles, splattering on my face. There's more blood than you'd think a human body could possibly hold in their blood vessels.

Somehow between my screams and the sound of metal against flesh and bone, I see the blood pooling around his head. So much of it now that's it's a deep red, almost black. I'm not entirely sure when he stops moving or for how long I continue to strike down on his skull after he stops moving, after Danny Houston is no longer and its simply a body.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Charmin Anderson

They say at the moment of death your life flashes before your eyes. In the moment Danny threatened Steven's life, when faced with the possibility of a world without Steven in it, it was the past three and a half months spent with the young Mancunian that flashes before my eyes.

In the moments it took me to take Danny's life nothing else went through my mind. It was just Steven. So that choice, 'fight or flight?', Danny or Steven, it wasn't even something that I have to think about. No choice at all really.

{~}

It's nearing midnight, and I've had people knocking on the doors all night, assuming we'd be open. I turn out all the lights, ignoring them all and spend the night clearing up my mess.

First I dispose of the body.

"Because you can't just leave a body lying around the basement of the club." I say to myself as I roll Danny up in a carpet that had been dumped behind the club a few weeks ago and still hasn't been picked up by the council or bin men.

"Lucky for me, really."

Gloves on the entire time, because I don't want to leave behind DNA and forensic evidence.

It takes me a while to drag Danny's lifeless body up the stairs and to the club door, I'm out of breath and have broken out in a sweat from the exertion.

"You're a heavy little fucker, ain't ya?"

I realise I'm freaking out, I've been giving a Danny's corpse a running commentary for the last hour and thirty minutes. I'm talking to a dead man and have broken out in hysterical laughter more than once. There is nothing comical about this situation, but I'm buzzing, like my blood is on fire, edging on the side of giddy, terrifyingly giddy.

I could do with a drink. Settle my nerves.

"Stay." I tell the rolled up corpse as I turn away, walking to the bar. "Good boy."

But maybe I shouldn't.

"You're driving remember?" I tell myself.

But my hands are shaking, I can barley hold the bottle. I clench to make a fist a few times, and try to shake off the nervous energy. Will myself to normality.

"Fuck it."

I pour two fingers of whiskey and down it in one to help calm my nerves. Dutch courage. Then, another two fingers.

I have to steal a car, hot-wire it because I can't use my own to move the body. I can't remember the last time I did this, before Eileen told me she was pregnant, so it takes me a while. That, and my still shaking hands are making it hard to hold steady. When the engine roars into life just as a couple of policemen walk by I say a little prayer, thanking my lucky stars and drive away.

At first I think of burying the body in the woods, but I don't have a shovel and have no way of finding one at 2am on New Years Day. Beside, knowing my luck a dog will smell the body, dig it up to be discovered by an early morning jogger or perhaps a couple hoping for a quickie against a tree will trip over an exposed limb.

It's a definite no to the sallow grave.

I get the idea to dump it the river, the current will run it down stream until it meats a bigger body of water and any physical evidence will be washed away. The only issue is that it's New Years Eve, and the pub is still packed, there are people everywhere. I have to wait for last orders, car parked in The Dog parking lot waiting for the last light from the Osbornes' flat to be switched off. I wait it out an addition hour, when I'm sure the last of the partiers have found the way home and the family in the flat above is soundly asleep, I finially push Danny into the river.

I had wrapped the carpet in bin bags and then used bricks from the skip to weigh it down. It takes longer than I thought it would for the last of the black bag to sink down. But then again maybe it doesn't take that long at all.

"So long Danny-Boy."

I torch the car at an abandoned petrol station just outside the village, burning my clothes along with it.

It's all done and I'm ready for bed, to go to sleep and forget this nightmare, so I'm shocked when I find my self banging on the front door of Steven's council flat at half six in the morning.

{~} {~} {~} {~} {~} {~} {~} {~} {~}

BANG. BANG. BANG.

"Ames, who is it?"

Loud banging on the front door had woken us both just a few seconds before, Amy makes it out into the hallway before I do, dressing gown wrapped around her slim frame. It must be early still, Leah is normally waking me up by seven, climbing all over me while I try and sleep in after a long night at work or with Brendan. But neither has been a problem for over two week now, I've been having early nights.

"It's Brendan." She tells me, peeking through the net curtains at the kitchen window.

"It's who?" I ask, rushing over to join her at the kitchen window.

I can't believe my eyes, but it is him. Brendan Brady stood on my doorstep at the crack of dawn. He's stopped the assault on our front door, has his head rested against it, eyes closed.

"Want me to get rid of him?" Amy asks as I wonder aloud, "What do you think he wants?"

"You are not serious, Ste?" Amy asks indignantly. "After moping around for the past three weeks," she continues, "because he doesn't treat you right. Ste you are better off without him, he's never going to commit. He doesn't deserve you."

"What if he does want to commit? What if that's why he's here?" Amy doesn't look convinced, in fact she's wearing as expression of pure pity. "If it were Josh banging down our front door first thing in the morning would you just ignore him?  _Could_  you do that?" I know the answer already and don't wait for her reply. "You would need to know."

It's true, I know it and so does she but instead of saying that Amy opts for, "just stop him form waking the kids." Because the knocking has resumed.

After Amy goes back to her room and I check Brendan hasn't in fact woken the kids I open the front door. The first thing I think after coming face with him after so long is I've missed him so much it's hurt, and I kind want to throw myself at him, bury my face in his neck while his strong arms hold me tight.

I don't. I have more pride and self worth than that.

The second is that he looks terrible. Like he's been awake all night, and several nights before that, the dark circles under eyes have aged him. He must have showered before he came here because his hair is still wet and he smells of soap but he hasn't bothered with hair gel, and he's wearing a wrinkled jumper and faded pair of jogging bottoms.

I want to be angry with him, tell him to commit or to leave, but he must be cold and he seems kind of lost, so without saying a word I leave the door open for him and head to the kitchen to fill the kettle.

I turn around to find Brendan leaning against the wall that acts as a partition between the kitchen and the front room. Arms folded, shoulders hunched and he's taken to staring at an old stain on the floor.

"Tea?" I ask. He doesn't answer, I don't think he even knows I'm here. "Tea?" I repeat, this time touching him gently on the arm.

"What?" He seems a little startled, looking around the flat as if he's surprised to be here.

"You must be cold. I'll make us some tea, warm you up, or a coffee if you prefer?"

"Yeah. Sure, a coffee would be great."

I get the two mugs ready in silence, one with a teabag the other with coffee granules and three sugars. Brendan, he doesn't move just watches me move around the small kitchen. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time.

"Here ya." I hand him the coffee mug.

"Thanks." He takes a long sip, eyes closing.

I do the same, our kettles on its last legs, never gets the water very hot. We drink in silence. Once we're done, Brendan staring into the bottom of his cup like it's going to give him the answers to the universe, I can't keep quite much longer.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine." I think he's trying to be reassuring, his face does something that seems like it's supposed to be a smile, but it all just comes of as defeated.

"Right, it's just that you don't look  _fine_."

"This your way of telling me you don't fancy me no more?"

He's smiling, but despite the joke it still doesn't seem right. Smiling isn't something that always comes easily to Brendan, expressing feelings of happiness, and a lot of time he doesn't even try and be genuine. But this, this is different some how, it's scares me.

"I'm just... I'm just worried 'bout ya."

"You're worried about me?" He seems surprised, like the very idea that someone cares enough to be worried is ridiculous. "You don't need to worry about me, Steven."

"I can't help it. You look proper rough."

That's the only way to describe it, Brendan's normally so well put together, puts a lot of effort in how he looks, how he presents himself to the world. The unirond clothes, bags under his eyes, it like the persona of Brendan Brady is unraveling from the seems.

"Didn't get much sleep." He explains.

"New Years proper busy a the club?"

"Something like that, yeah." Brendan says, running his fingers through his hair.

"You should get some sleep."

"You trying get me into bed? All you have to do is ask, you know that." He's smirking now.

"I'm  _tryna_  be serious here. We've not spoken in weeks, and then you basically knock down my door first thing in the morning looking like something outta the Walking Dead."

"You want to be serious? You tell me you care, then what have you been playing at the last few weeks? Completely cutting me out of your life?"

"I-" That throws me off guard, I'm normally the one that so blatant about wanting to talk about my feelings. It's normally like blood from a stone with Brendan. "I didn't, I wasn't cutting you out, I just needed some space."

"Space! So what, we're on a break? You're the one that's always on about what this is, about defining this, but for three weeks you don't return my calls. I think you've been watching too many day time talk shows."

"See, this is why I can't talk to you, my opinion never matters. It's like you can't help but belittle me."

"I wasn't -. I didn't mean to -." Brendan paws at his watch, fiddles at the crucifix hanging around his neck, "I didn't come here to argue with you, Steven."

"Then why did you?"

"I was thinking we could get away. Spend the weekend at a hotel?"

"A hotel." Right.

"That's what you want right, that's what all this, you ignoring me has all been about? You want to be treated better? For me to treat you better. Well, this is me treating you better."

_He still doesn't get it._

"What, by hiding me away at the seedy travel lodge in Chester? That's just more of the same. I ain't doing that no more, Brendan. I need more than that."

"Well maybe you're asking for more than I can give. You ever though about that? I've already told you, you matter to me, that you're important. I can admit that." The fight seems to be gone, like he's run out of steam. "I don't know what more I can say."

I think my brain may short circuit or something, because one second I'm about a meter away from him and the next we're kissing. Or I'm kissing him, passionately and hard, not a slither of space between us and I push his body into the wall behind him. I've missed this.

"I know you deserve better." He tells me, pulling away just enough to speak. "And much more, but I'm just not there yet. I'm not ready."

"It's fine, I understand and I can wait." I really can. "For as long as you need, as long as where're together. Like properly together."

"We are, together. And I was serious before, about the weekend away. But not – what was it? - 'the seedy Travel Lodge in Chester'. I wanted to get away from here for a little while, I was thinking we could go down to London for a long weekend."

I don't say anything I actually think I'm dreaming, because this sounds like a proper romantic weekend away. Something an actual couple would do.

"Or if you don't like London we could go somewhere else, Birmingham, wherever you want really."

"How about Brighton?" I ask soppy grin on my face.

"Brighton?" His eyebrows rise.

"Yeah, Brighton. There are a bunch of people like us, in't there and nobody cares what you do, or who you're with."

"I think London will do." He smiles, and it's genuine and the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. "Christmas lights are still be up, it's beautiful at night, and during the days we could do all them tourist things, The Eye, Madame Tussauds, river boat tour of all them bridges. Anything you want."

"Yeah, sounds great."

"So you'll come?"

"I mean, I'll have to sort it with Amy, make sure she'll be okay with the kids. But yeah, can't wait me." And now we're both smiling.

"I've missed you." He says.

"Of course you have."

"Okay good, it's-" he brings outs phone to check the time, seems to be surprised that it's so early, "-six fifty now, I'll meet you round the back of the club at half ten?" He hesitates for a second. "On second thoughts I'll pick you up from here."

"Here, outside the flat?"

_Where anyone could see._

"No point you lugging your bags all over the village."

"Okay yeah. Maybe you could get some sleep before then."

"Another coffee and I'll be fine."

"I was serious before, you don't look right Bren."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"You don't get to do that. You get to worry about me then I get to do the same, it works both ways."

He nods.

{~}

Amy's out of her room as soon as the front door is bangs shut, wanting to know what's gone on.

"We're off to London for the weekend." I tell her.

"Just like that?"

"No, not just like that. I told him that I ain't some dirty bit on the side that he's ashamed of."

"Yet he's taking you away for a dirty weekend, making it seem like some sort of amazing gesture to placate you.

"Play- what?"

"He's playing you for a fool."

"No he ain't. There are two people in this relationship right, and I have to take his feelings into account too. This ain't about Brendan not appreciating me, it's about him not being comfortable with who he is. And if I want to be with him then I'm just gonna have to accept that, right."

"Okay, just make sure your both getting something out of this relationship-"

"We are. Ames, I'm happier than I ever thought I could be right, and it's because of him. I just have to let him figure out that no one cares who he's with, that people ain't going to judge him for being gay. And maybe a weekend away from everyone we know can be like the first step to that."

"Yeah maybe." But she still doesn't sound sure.

"Amy, you don't need to worry. This will all work out, you'll see.

"You really think this weekend away will help?"

"I really do. But only as long as you'll be okay with the kids?"

"We'll be fine." I can tell she's being genuine, that she wants this for me. "You go pack."

{~}

Brendan warns me that the drive down is going to take longer than normal because the traffic is a state. It doesn't bother me, I've never been to London so I have no prior experience to compare it to. Never been anywhere really, grew up in Manchester, moved to Chester a few years ago. There was that one time I bunked off school with a few of my mates and jumped the barriers to get the train to Leeds. But that's about it. Anyway I'm not going to complain that I get to spend more time alone with Brendan.

We're on a motorway somewhere, it's nice, being surrounded by fields with sheep, horses and ponies grazing. Brendan's even bought snacks for the drive down. All my favourites, lemon sherbet, haribo, cheese and onion crisps and a couple of bottles of coke.

Brendan is quite, not that he normally talks much, but he's extra quite today. I think he's in his own head, maybe freaking about going on an actual couples holiday. So every time something comes to mind I have to remind myself not to say it, give him some peace of mind.

"We're about half way there, there's a rest stop up ahead. You want to stop and get something to eat? Stretch your legs a bit."

"Yeah sure, could do with the loo."

The toilets are in a separate building just to the side of the restaurant, I jump out before Brendan's even properly parked, suddenly desperate for a wee. I don't make it half way there, before someone grabs onto my wrist tightly. It's Brendan, he's got this nervous energy about him.

"Where you going."

"For a piss." I say point to the toilets not three yards away from us. "Like I said before."

"Right. Yeah. Sorry."

He lets go of my arm, taking a step back and plays with the hairs on his moustache. He's acting weird.

"Bren, you okay?"

"Yeah. Fine."

It's a lie. He's not. It's not that I haven't seen Brendan unsettled before, but normally he exaggerates it, makes it into a performance to make the people around him uncomfortable. This time he's just trying to pretend that there's nothing wrong, that nothing's bothering him, that's the scariest part.

"You gonna be okay in there by yourself?" He asks.

"I'll be fine, I may not have been to London before but I think I can make the journey from your car to the loo." I keep it light, I think that's what he needs.

{~}

The place is a cross between a cafe and what I imagine an American diner looks like. Its old, dated, the colours probably aren't as vibrant as they where when the place was first opened but the food is good. By the time I get back from the toilets Brendan has already ordered. Burgers with all the works and a large portion of chips for the both of us.

He's a lot less jittery than he has been, mellow even. I think it's the combination of the food and the music playing on the restaurant speakers. John Money or someone, I've heard Brendan listen to him before.

{~}

We're soon back in the car, not moving, surrounded by lanes and lanes of other stationary cars. I've managed to find a station playing pop, so it's Cheryl Cole, Katy Perry and the like for the rest of the journey. Brendan's not impressed but doesn't say anything, just shakes his head, smiling a little as I sing along.

Brendan probably thinks he's being proper stealthy about it, but I keep catching him looking at me, watching me. Like he can't bear to look away from for too long.

"Have I got something on me face?" I ask, smiling.

"What?"

"You're staring."

"No. It's just..." He doesn't finish whatever it is he was going to say, just shakes his head and turns his attention back to the road, even though we still aren't moving.

"It's what?"

"Nothing."

"Come on. You were going to say something. What was it?"

"You look really happy, giddy almost. Like a little kid on Christmas morning."

"Do not."

"Yeah you do. You can't even stay still for more than five minutes. I'm just waiting for you to ask if we're there yet?"

"Shut up." I know I'm sulking, proving his point but I can't help it.

"No it's nice. Seeing you happy… it's nice."

"Well I ain't been to London before, 'ave I. Not been anywhere really, me."

We're silent for a little while, I know we're both probably thinking about how I didn't have much growing up, completely different from Brendan's childhood if the stories Cheryl tells are anything to go by.

"You been down there a lot?" I ask.

"Few time. When I was a boy, with Cheryl, her Ma and our Da. Then when Eileen and I first got together we'd fly over for bank holidays."

"Sounds like fun." I know it's ridiculous but I'm jealous that he's done this already with his wife.

"Not really. A lot of pretending. Pretending to be a happy, loved son. Pretending to be a doting boyfriend. Husband."

"So no good memories?"

"Not particularly."

"So why'd you want to go back?"

"It wasn't the place, London's great, it was me. I was always trying to hard, to be normal to really enjoy it."

"You are normal." I tell him, squeezing his hand on the gear stick.

"Hmm." He nods non-committedly, looking down at where our hands connect.

"Anyway, we're gonna make a ton of great memories, ain't we? All them sights to see, great restaurants to eat at, and all of them wax figures are meant to be proper realistic like."

"Alright, calm down." He tells me, what looks like a fond little smile taking over his face. "Definitely like a little kid, excitable enough."

Brendan turns his hand over so our fingers are intertwined between the seats, bringing the back off my hand up to his lips.


End file.
